#Steel Pan Movement

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: You Broke and I Shattered

Summary- 3.9k Alpha Steve x Little One. You and Steve find where Ulysses is storing his stolen goods; vibranium from Wakanda. Scouting the building, you and Steve separate and Steve struggles with this lone wolf mentality.

Warnings- Steve being upset and lashing out about your relationship with Pan. Reader goes into her heat finally and confronts Steve during it.

A/N- Okay I know it's been a while, LONG WHILE since I have posted these two. Part of me is still apprehensive about your Steve feelings. Be mad and hate him if that is the vibe! I get it, honestly, I do. I can't help but love him as strongly as I always have because I love a broken character that I created. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for walking through this and holding my hand with them. For always giving me reassurance to continue this story. You, my dear friend, are a saint for all you do behind the scenes. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics Enjoy, and if you did, please share and reblog. I also love hearing your thoughts and rants about them.

Chapter Seven / Masterlist

It smelled bad. 

The Little Wolf’s nose wrinkled as she scouted the side of the large warehouse. You lost track of Steve after he shifted, the Alpha whisking his muzzle against the Little Wolf’s and then leapt away along the edge of the warehouse. As large as the Alpha was, he was easily able to meld into nothing when he didn’t want to be seen. A skill from many years of hunting. 

The Little Wolf weaved through the large piles of garbage and pallets, using them to keep her hidden from the multitude of cameras outside of the building. The installers had attempted to keep them hidden, but your time working with T’Challa had taught you where to look. 

The Little Wolf was also good at getting by unnoticed, the smaller stature and slinking nature could make her easily pass for a street dog that ran wild. 

The scents assaulting her were so foul and strong. The heavy acidic scent of fear permeates the stone and steel walls, making the Little Wolf’s ears lay flat against her skull, her nose wrinkling in discomfort. 

A scuffle of footsteps caught her attention, sending her into hiding with her radar-sharp ears swiveling towards the footsteps scuttling down the alleyway towards where you were hiding. 

“The shipment’s ready, just need the boss's sign-off.” You heard the man say into a phone and the Little Wolf pricked her ears to catch the last of the conversation. “Yeah, Klaue is expected in a couple days.”

He is not here yet. You mentally sighed, frustrated that there would be a period of waiting around for you and Steve.

<But he will be here soon for us. The Alpha should be coming around any moment, maybe we can get inside.> She was quiet in her movements, easing away from the rambling man whose conversation turned elsewhere, giving them no more vital information. Catching sight of the unlatched door, the Little Wolf paused, glancing around to see that no one was nearby. <Should we wait?> 

We could lose our chance. You urged her, unwilling to wait now that the opportunity of getting inside was just so available to you. 

<The Alpha…> The Little Wolf hesitated, glancing back at the direction Steve should be coming around. 

Will catch up. He can follow our trail and we might lose this entrance if that man comes back to lock this door. This is our chance to see the inside and be prepared for Ulysses. 

She finally relented, using her muzzle to ease the door open further and sneak into the dark interior of the warehouse, a sliver of light the only source into the belly of the beast. 

It was easy remaining out of sight on the main floor, various containers of weapons that all smelled tinged with vibranium littered haphazardly around and in the center of the building were cages, all emptied but you could see that they had been recently used. All providing cover even as a silent snarl flirted across Little One’s muzzle, anger simmering in your chest as well as sadness that you had been too late to save those souls from whomever they were sold too. 

Flashes of your old life, the sales floor clouding your memories while you wandered between them. The fear and pain at being dragged in front of buyers, their hands running all over your naked body and the false promises of giving you a better life if you just bonded with them. 

The vileness of it made the Little Wolf shiver and a soft barely there whine escape. <Never again.> She assured you, the fur along her back bristling in agitation. 

Never again. You agreed with her, calming once more. You escaped, you had known love and safety with your pack and with Steve. Even now with you two separated, you knew Steve still wouldn’t ever allow anyone to use you like that again. 

The Little Wolf eased closer, edging along the last line of containers holding vibranium and weapons, trying to map the building. 

There was a huff nearby and you caught sight of silver fur rows back. Steve found us. The Little Wolf stopped, the tip of her tail wagging in a greeting but the Alpha stalked nearby, his eyes blazing furiously at the Little Wolf. 

She lowered further, feeling the anger roll from him while he slid up next to her, pressing in against her for a moment just to feel her before he silently let his nose wander along the edge of the containers. 

Loud shouts just out of sight called out directions to load pallets onto the truck, making you and the Alpha both freeze for a second. The Alpha turned away and returned to the Little Wolf’s side, rumbling enough so you felt the vibrations rising off him. Not an order from the Alpha but a suggestion that it was time to go. 

You pulled back, leading the way out, and once back outside, no one the wiser, you both bolted away from the warehouse. 

It had been a while since you had returned to the apartment, Steve had been silent most of the time, both of you sketching out the warehouse's interior and tensley comparing notes with one another. But you could feel the tension crackling between you and Steve. All his responses clipped in a tone that you were just not used to from him. 

It was making your Little Wolf uneasy in your mind, pacing back and forth in a skittish way, making you feel like you were about to snap. 

You finally pushed away the notes and sketches of the warehouse, making Steve’s gaze snap to you curiously. “What’s wrong Steve?” 

His brows furrowed together and his mouth thinned with whatever he wanted to say being held back. “Nothing is wrong Y/N. We should contact T’Challa to let him know what we found.” He pulled away, going to grab his phone when you grabbed his forearm to keep him from avoiding the question. Steve stiffened, a shiver going through him and you saw his nostrils flare a bit, dragging in a breath of you. 

“Stop the bullshit Steve, you’re pissed and I don’t know why.” Your Little Wolf yipped anxiously, making you tense up all that much more. 

Clear blue eyes snapped, flaring slightly in a glowing color as the Alpha in him rose to challenge him before he turned to you with a slight bare of his teeth. “You didn’t wait for me Y/N. You charged into that warehouse alone.” 

Your hand dropped from his arm and you immediately snapped back, if you had hackles, they would be raised at the tension finally breaking. “This is what you are pissed about Steve? I was doing the mission. I don’t need your permission to do that.” A snarl emitted from you, daring Steve to bite back. “Not anymore.” 

He rose to the challenge, rounding onto you, his size a sheer force but you held tight, refusing to step back from him. “That’s right Little One, I gave you up and set you free from me.” 

A warning growl escaped you as a bit of tears threatening to well up hearing him. “That you did.”

“You have no regard for your safety, we are supposed to be hunting together and you just go into that building without me and that wasn’t the plan, I don’t care that you went in, but I didn’t know where you were, I just happened to catch your scent in the open door. What if they found you and caught you, what if I couldn’t follow you in?” He pulled away with a yank of his hand through his hair. 

You squared your shoulders, anger making your tone bite in your words. “It’s not your fucking job Steven to keep me safe. Why are you always trying to shield me?” 

“Cause Little One! It still feels like you’re fucking mine, even now while we are unbonded all I feel…” His hand slapped against his chest, where you knew his heart pounded its rhythm. 

“Well that sounds like your problem that you need to figure out. I’m not your Little One.” You tossed out, the pain searing into anger at the Alpha in front of you. “You ‘set me free’ which is utter bullshit, you don’t get to dictate how I work now.” 

It was like whiplash, his brow wrinkling as his sadness seeped through before anger masked his features once again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. You remind me, you had moved on right… to him?” 

You knew exactly who he was talking about and that made those tears finally fall, your hand lifting and slapping sharply across Steve’s face hard, enough that his head turned with the impact. 

“How dare you, Steve, Pan was my friend when I was broken. My friend Steve, he was exactly who I needed when I was alone. You did this to us. You and that fucking drive to keep me safe. Newsflash Steve, my whole life I fought and I’m never going to stop. Now I’m doing it alone without you. You just thought of how you hurt me while being collared, it was NOTHING compared to what you did in that hospital room. I lost you that day and had to learn how to live without my mate because he didn’t want me anymore.” 

“Fuck Y/N, I never said I didn’t want you.” Steve’s jaw clenched tightly, but the anger from his features was gone, disbelief crowning his features now. His hand reached out to draw you in, but you stepped away, unable to handle the contact.

“You broke me that day Steve and now you don’t like this version I turned into? You have no right to be mad about that.” Your voice cracked, a shiver wracking up your body while the Little Wolf started singing in the back of your mind, her own pain breaking in the song. “I survived being used, I survived beatings in attempts to make me submissive, I survived other Alpha’s scarring me with their bites, I survived all the times they tried purposely to break me into bowing for them and being this meek little pup. But you, Steve I barely survived you.”  

You let out a breath, feeling your chest lighten as Steve stood before you like he was at a loss for words for a moment. Before you would let him say anything, you turned away to your room and let the door shut him out. Exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks and as you crawled into your bed to sink into that dark place you yet again were hovering in, your Little Wolf crooning to you, you curled into a ball in your bed and let yourself go. 

Steve sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed in the apartment. It had been hours since you just dropped it all on him, which he knew but hearing it come from you, how your voice became so vulnerable like you were laid open and left to pick up the pieces. To top it off, he knew he was an utter asshole for what he said to you, wishing he could take it back. But it was out there now and he knew he couldn’t take back what he said in a moment of frustration. 

There was no way to take any of the last year back, he knew he acted on instinct back then and he was wrong. All of it was wrong, but he had to live with his actions. Actions had consequences and all he could do now was live with those choices, and give you that freedom. You were right, he couldn’t be mad at what you turned into because he was a part of it all. Something in him shattered that day, hard broken shards that fed all his fears and he was still struggling to not give in to them.

It still didn’t make it easier for him, or the Alpha. The Alpha was furious with him once more. A snarling beast who lashed out to make Steve wince at the rage. But he felt he deserved it, he took each one without a snap back. 

To top the whole fuck up of a day there was a soft wail through the wall of disbelief and it hit every one of Steve’s senses.

Your heat finally arrived and right now you two were stuck together, with no way to give one another space during this vulnerable intimate time. 

And it was almost torture to Steve as his muscles cramped with restraint, resisting the urge to go to you. 

The Wolf simmered somewhere, Steve sensed him close, but he was still staying away from the conscious side. Your scent was heavy with need and that made a ping of guilt well up in him that your heat was going to be worse for you because he was there. 

If you were back in Wakanda he would slip away, leave you in peace to choose the partner you would want to help you through this. But not in the middle of a mission like this.  

<Coward> The Wolf snarled at him, his ears laid flat against his skull and showing his fangs with a snap of his jaw, jolting Steve back to his awareness of his beast. <You would run away instead of staying to take care of her.> 

His head hung from his shoulders, gritting his eyes and clenching his jaw as his own beast tried to take over, howling your song to call for you. His rut was going to be rough, more of his wolfish side coming through, the overbearing need to fuck and take care of his mate would be a whole other torture. 

“Fuck off.” He snarled loudly, aiming at the Alpha but your soft voice cut through his snarl, making his head snap up, his hair disheveled and eyes flashing a brighter color as his nose tilted up to catch your warm honeysuckle scent. 

“Steve.” Your voice was soft in tone and loud in every other way as it broke his inner battle, your hands clutching at a blanket around you, miserable looking. “She won’t stop…” 

Steve guessed, as much as his wolf was trying to take over, the Little Wolf would be too. You were so distressed-looking, shaking in the blanket even though it wasn’t cold. He straightened up, holding out a hand to you. “Come here Y/N.” He growled, unable to contain more of the Wolf coming through. 

It was all it took, the blanket fell from around you, your body to sensitive for anything on you, as you streaked to Steve, his arms circling around your waist and made you straddle his lap. Getting as close as you could be without pinning you underneath him in the bed. His clothes felt so constricting as you settled in close, tears starting to race down your cheeks while your hands slid up his chest, pulling his shirt over his head so you could get skin to skin, which he was thankful for. “I tried Alpha, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You leaned into him, your breasts pressing against his chest as your face tucked into his neck, hiding away. 

“For what Y/N?” he let his nose press against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. That alone made the wolf ease back, and let him regain control. Heavy calloused hands went up and down your back as you started sobbing in his neck, your thighs squeezing against him as you rocked your hips slightly to rub against him. 

“For being here with you.” You pushed against him and stared at him with sorrow and pain that Steve couldn’t stop the kisses he flushed over your eyes as more of your tears escaped, tears that he caused. Salty on his lips as they escaped into his beard. His gentleness at the moment, although both of your bodies were screaming to mate with one another, seemed to break you. 

“I’m so mad at you for doing this to me.” You dug your nails into his shoulders, rocking again as he matched your movement, pushing up to give you some relief in your grinding. “I did what you said, I left you alone and you followed me here. I couldn’t escape you with the pack and I still can’t Steve. Why do you make this impossible for me?” You hissed as your mouth sought his, while his kiss stayed gentle, you bit at him, gasping against him as your nails clawed into the muscles of his back. “You left me Steve and it broke me more than anything else that has happened.” If this was your punishment, Steve would take it. Every sharp claw and hissing bite you lashed at him. 

Steve clenched his jaw, unwilling to defend himself and his choices. He did this to you and it was the least he could do was listen. Instead, he pressed you in closer to him, touching you in all the ways he knew made you feel safe and cared for, his lips pressing against yours while you broke because of him. Your pain you lashed onto his back with your nails sharply dragging up to grasp his shoulder and rock yourself in against him once again, he welcomed the pain as he would any of your touches. 

You shook in his hold, pushing away from him enough to look at him, your anger melding into sheer pain. “Was I too weak to be an Alpha’s mate, your mate? Do you regret taking a broken and used Omega? I need to know Steve.”

This he couldn’t stand, not from you of all people. With a sweep of his hold, he twisted you to the bed, on your back while he hovered over you with a bare of his teeth at you, all the long hair falling forward around his face, making Steve look wild above you. Your hands went to cup his face, studying the man you and your little wolf still fiercely loved, your fingers pushing up to weave into his hair. “Is that what you actually believe Little One?” Steve’s tone was graveled, a mix of his voice and the Alpha growling at the same time. “Do you?” He said sharper, making you roll your body up into his solid one, giving a nod when you couldn't say anything. 

His hands caught your wrists and let his nose trace the inside on each one, you went pliant against him finally and he let his whirlwind of emotions settle. He had you and wasn’t planning on letting you go till you knew in your soul that he never would have left you because of those reasons. 

Your hands were pinned swiftly, slamming them into the pillows scattered around his bed. “Little One.” He growled when his lips descended to the soft warmth of your neck column. Kissing behind your ear with much more gentleness than how his hand caged yours over your head. “You really don’t know do you, how much power you have.” His growls were edging on violent, wracking through your body while his touch remained loving, each glide of his hand tracing your side passionate while the other encircled your wrists above your head with controlled strength, the flick of his tongue gliding on your skin and light pressure of sharpened fangs all affection in worshipping you. “How I would do anything for you. You think me walking away didn’t destroy my sanity, made the beast try to claw from his cage?” 

You whined under Steve, your heat simmering on unbearable but his words were making you want to scream. All this time he felt this way and he still managed to walk away, leaving you shattered, your fingers curled, digging into his palm keeping you pinned down. He hissed at the pain but never loosened or pulled away from you. “You still did it, you claim to protect me from you.” 

Steve rose above you, his touch on your waist going to your face, turning your head till you couldn't look away from him. So much filled his gaze locking with yours and your unshed tears of anger, frustration, and pain were mirrored in his. “Because I am weak, scared, and broken. All I could see in that moment was you dead at my feet, that I had destroyed my mate, half of my soul. Alpha’s might seem powerful, but actually, we are empty without our other halves, made to serve our packs but never finding anything beyond that. That day I almost killed mine and I was powerless to stop it." His throat bobbed, swallowing past the emotion that almost seemed to overtake him. "I made a mistake and I see that now Little One, I let fear control me, and look what it did to us. I can’t take it back and will always live with what I did. You are right, I can’t be mad about who you are now because of it, you became stronger. You don’t need me, not really. You, my mate, you have all the power. Fuck, that day I was breaking down thinking I was powerless to control myself...”  His shoulders sagged like admitting this out loud to you took everything out of him. “I should have talked to you about what I was going through instead of running.” 

You eased up the grasp of your fingers digging into his palm, allowing yourself to soften slightly under him. Pulling a hand from his hold, your touch drifted up, sliding around the curve of his neck while you silently counted every little ragged scar circling his throat. Every little barb that dug into him and controlled him. This shattered your Alpha and he was struggling to be better. "I see you Steve." You whispered up at him while letting your thumb wipe under his eyes, clearing away the moisture welling up in those sharp blue eyes.

He reached up to take your palm, curling it against his jaw while he tilted into it, pressing his lips to the center. "I see you too Y/N, I'm so sorry I pushed you away."

Your Little Wolf called out his song again while his eyes scanned over your face, feeling the change in you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer. “I could throttle you.” You chirped with a crack in your voice and Steve gave a soft sad chuckle as his head dropped to lean his forehead against yours, giving a little sniffle.

“I know I deserve it.” 

“And what do you want now Steve?” You asked softly, almost a whisper between you two. 

The Alpha was silent, his inhales drawing you in to smother all his other senses, if he could drown in you, he would so happily. “A chance for us, to be the Alpha and your mate you deserve from me.” He pulled away to catch your eyes, such a sharp blue with tinges of yellow melding to give hints of green, the Alpha bleeding through, showing while Steve gave you the answers you sought. “To give you all of me, even the broken parts that need fixing Little One.” 

“If I said I need you to talk to me Steve, you need to let me in instead of just trying to keep me safe from the world.” Your hand twisted in his hold, sliding your fingers through his above your head. “That you won’t shut me out because you are trying to keep me safe.” 

“I will spend my life showing you I can be your partner.” This next kiss was gentle, a brush of his lips to yours as you pulled him back into your hold, his heavy weight on you making you finally feel like you were where you belonged. “And I will wait, as long as you need to be ready for us again, if that is what you want.” 

Ready to be us again… You repeated to yourself, letting his words really take hold. The Little Wolf was a calming presence now, the heat sated enough in just this rebonding moment for you two. You pushed up your hips enough to push against Steve and he instinctively released his hold on you to fall back and take you with him, letting you straddle him while he laid underneath you now, his hands caressing down till they settled on your waist, content to let you decide what you wanted from him next. “I missed you, Steve, we missed you.” 

Your touch slipped up his chest while you moved to settle in against him, ease relaxing through you as his arms slipped around you, hugging you to lay against him and nothing more in the moment. You let your cheek lay against his chest, your head tucked under his bristled chin. You could feel his words as he spoke them out loud. “We were wanderers without our home Little One, we missed you too.” 

#on the hunt #alpha steve and little one #alpha steve x little one #alpha steve x reader #alpha steve x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers and you #steve rogers and reader #the pack #welcome to the pack #its been ages since they have had a new chapter #sorry everyone for the wait #those of you still following this long story #hahaha

[soulofapatrick]

Freeze Time - Alex Claremont-Diaz x Male Reader 

Summary: Late night noodles leads to blowjobs

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: blowjobs; gay; semi-smut; fluff

Notes: I have no idea how noodles led to a blowjob but enjoy

Y/N’s POV

The White House is a far cry from the familiarity and grandeur of Kensington Palace. As I walk in, I’m immediately struck by its simplicity and functionality. The walls are painted a clean, crisp white, and the countertops gleam under the bright overhead lights. The stainless steel appliances stand in stark contrast to the ornate furnishings I’m accustom to at home. The kitchen is spacious, with enough room for a team of chefs to prepare meals for the First Family and their guests. It’s well-organised space, with pots and pans neatly hung on the walls, and a long island in the centre where ingredients are laid out for easy access. It feels more like a professional culinary workspace than a royal palace kitchen. 

I pull out a stool and take a seat at the island, the cool surface beneath my hands a stark reminder that I’m far from the comforts of Kensington. The White House kitchen is an oasis of tranquility compared to the perpetual hustle and bustle of Kensington Palace. Here, in the heart of American power, the quietude is striking. The silence is almost reverent, as if the walls themselves are whispering tales of history and diplomacy. 

Gone are the echoes of footfalls and the distant hum of activity that I’ve grown so accustomed to the corridors of Kensington. In this austere American kitchen, the only sounds that break the silence are the gentle clinking of utensils and the soft sizzle of something cooking on the stove. One lonely cook stays behind, making me some noodles with a soft smile on her face as if she loves her job more than anything else. It’s a stark contrast to the constant movement and chatter that fills the air at home. 

One lonely cook stays behind, her presence a reassuring island in the sea of quietude. She moves with a graceful efficiency, her every action precise and deliberate. Her eyes meet mine, and there's a warmth in her gaze, as if she finds solace in her solitary late-night task. It's as though she loves her job more than anything else, and in that moment, I can't help but admire her dedication. 

With a soft smile, she places a steaming bowl of chicken ramen in front of me. The aroma is intoxicating, the rich scent of broth mingling with the savoury notes of chicken and herbs. The steam curls upwards, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace, dispelling the chill that had settled in my bones. 

I thank her, and she nods before retreating, her footsteps fading into the background as she leaves me alone with the bowl of ramen. As I take the first bite, the flavours explode in my mouth, each ingredient perfectly balanced. The noodles are tender but still have a satisfying bite, and the brother is a symphony of umami, with hints of soy sauce and ginger. It’s a taste of comfort, a reminder of being home and having late night meals with Henry and Bea, and I savour it with every spoonful. 

Just as I’m lost in the delicious embrace of the ramen, I hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching. I turn to see Alex, my heart quickening at the sight of him. His disheveled hair and causal attire are a stark contrast to the polished image he presents to the world. In this quiet, intimate moment, he’s just Alex. 

He smiles as he approaches, his eyes lighting up when he sees the ramen in front of me, ‘Late night noodles, huh?” 

As Alex takes a seat beside me, our shoulders brushing against each other, a warm and tingling sensation spreads through me. It’s as if the simple act of siting next to each other has the poser to chase away any lingering shadows of loneliness or uncertainty. In this moment, the world outside the White House kitchen fades into insignificance, and it’s just the two of us. I watch him with a fondness that never seems to wane, even after all this time. His disheveled hair, slightly tousled from the busy day, only adds to his charm. Gone is the meticulously styles appearance he wears for public events, replaced by a more relaxed and authentic version of Alex. 

He shoots me a mischievous grin as he reaches for a fork and playfully swipes a mouthful of my ramen. His russet eyes meet mine, and there’s a spark of playful flirtation in them, a reminder of the chemistry that has always crackles between us, “Late night noodles are elite.” 

His presence is magnetic, drawing me closer despite the narrow divide between us. I catch a whiff of his familiar scent, a combination of his cologne and the subtle traces of the day’s activities. It’s a scent that’s uniquely his, comforting and inviting. 

As our knees touch under the table, he leans in closer, his lips dangerously close to my ear, “You know, Y/N.” He murmurs, his voice a velvety whisper that sends shivers down my spine, hand large hand falling to my thigh and sending a jolt through me, “I’ve always thought you look especially irresistible when you're enjoying a good bowl of ramen.”

As my cheeks burn with the heat of Alex’s bold statement, his large, warm hand finds its way to my thigh, sending an electrifying jolt through my body. The intimacy of the touch sends my heart racing, and I can’t help but respond to the magnetic pull between us. I turn to him, my breath hitching as I lock eyes with him again. The velvety timbre of his voice still lingers in my ears, and the unspoken desire smoulders in the air. There’s a raw and undeniable chemistry that has always existed between us, and in this moment, it’s impossible to resist. 

With shared intent, we finish the last bites of the ramen, the flavours a backdrop to the escalating tension between us. As the empty bowl is set aside, Alex’s lips find their way to my neck, leaving soft, tentative kisses in their wake. My skin tingles with each gentle press of his lips, and I can feel his warm breath against my sensitive flesh. 

My fingers find their way into his hair, entwining in the soft strands. With a desperate urgently, I yank him closer, my lips seeking his in a kiss that’s fierce and unrelenting. Our mouths crash together, a tumultuous storm of longing and desire. The taste of ramen lingers on our lips as we devour each other, the tension that had simmered between us now ignited into a passionate blaze. His tongue brushes against my bottom lip, seeking entrance, and I part my lips eagerly, granting him access. The sensation of his tongue mingling with mine sends a shiver down my spine, and I respond in kind, our mouths locked in a passionate dance that knows no restraint. 

But the, as if overcome by a sudden burst of desire and urgency, Alex pulls away, his eyes  dark and smouldering. He murmurs huskily, his voice laced with longing, “We should take this to the bedroom.” 

His words send a jolt of anticipation through me, and before I can even respond, he grabs my hand with an eagerness that matches my own. Without hesitation, we sprint down the quiet halls of the White House, our footsteps echoing almost too loud in the stillness of the night. Up the stairs we go, each step bringing us closer and closer to his room. The thrill of our urgency intensifies with each step up the grand staircase, my heart racing in tandem with our hurried ascent. The quiet elegance of the White House feels worlds away as we sprint through its hallowed halls, driven by an irresistible need for each other. 

As we reach his bedroom door, Alex doesn’t waste a moment. With a fiery passion that mirrors my own, he shoves me gently against the wall, his lips crashing onto mine in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless and dizzy. It’s a kiss that tastes of desire, need, and the years of longing we’ve shared. Our lips move fervently against each other's, a symphony of heat and hunger, and in this stolen moment, I can't help but marvel at the intensity of our connection

With a deft hand, Alex fumbles for the doorknob, his urgency clear as he pushes it open and ushers me inside the bedroom. The soft lamplight casts a warm glow, revealing a room that is very much Alex. Before I can really take in the room Alex’s lips claim mine and he’s guiding me backwards until my thighs hit his bed, and we tumble down together in a tangle of limbs. 

Giggle and gasps escape our lips as we fall onto the soft mattress, the weight of Alex landing on top of me. The bed dips beneath us, and we’re a mess of arms and legs, tangled together in our fervour. The laughter that bubbles up between kisses is infectious, a testament to the joy the fills our hearts in these stolen moments of intimacy. Alex’s hands start their slow descent. With a deliberate slowness that heightens the anticipation, his fingers deftly unbutton my shirt, one button at a time, each revealing a bit more of my skin beneath. 

His lips, still flushed with desire and tasting of the sweet promise of our connection, following the path his hands take. They leave a trail of delicate kisses along my chest, the warmth of his mouth igniting a fire within me. It’s as if each kiss is a silent declaration of his love and longing, a testament to the tenderness we share. 

With a final, lingering kiss at my navel, Alex’s attention shifts lower. His fingers dance skilfully over the button of my jeans, and he slowly, tantalisingly, eases them open. The fabric gives way, revealing the growing desire that has been building beneath. It draws a gasp from me when he traces a line of hot, moist kisses along the exposed skin of my hips, his breath coming in soft pants against my flesh. I raise my hips slightly to aid n their removal, allowing him to slide them down my legs and cast them aside, leaving me in just my boxers before him. 

With a gaze that’s both intense and loving, Alex takes in the sight before him. His russet eyes are almost black as they slide over my body as if I was carved by gods, settling on the bulge in my boxers that is nowhere near going away, especially when he looks at me like that, his hunger palpable. But he doesn’t rush. Instead, he savours the moment, the intimacy. 

His lips, warm and moist, continue their journey upward, tracing a path of kisses up my inner thighs. Each touch is a delicate caress, a testament to the desire that courses through our veins. The sensation of his breath against my flesh sends a thrill of excitement through me, and I arch my back, offering myself to him without reservation. That’s all it takes for him to practically rip my boxers down my legs and throwing them aside. I raise myself to my elbows to watch him, watching the way his face as he stares my throbbing erection, pressed against my stomach. Lust glimmers in his eyes, the intensity of his desire reflected in their depth. His love for me is evident in the tenderness of his touch, and there’s an unspoken promise that goes beyond physical. 

But I also see something else in his eyes, a hint of fear and nervousness that tugs at my heart. It’s as if he’s baring not just his body but his soul, and the vulnerability of the moment weighs heavily on him. He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his anticipation, eyes flickering up to meet mine. 

“You don’t have-“ I can’t even finish the sentence, my breath gets stuck in my throat as he licks a bold stripe up the underside of my dick. His large hands are gripping my hips, rubbing soothing circles into the skin before he kisses the head and I think I die a little. My hands find comfort in his hair, tangling in those dark locks as he goes at his own pace, lips feeling heavenly. He closes his lips around the head, dragging his tongue excessively over the tip, where pre-cum has been dribbling across my lower stomach, drawing an embarrassing sound from my throat. He doesn’t move, just keeps his lips there and I want to push him down but this is… I don’t want to rush Alex. 

“A-Alex please,” I’m whining and the fucker pulls his lips away, looking up at me through those pretty eyelashes, lips parted in a teasing grin, “Stop teasing me.” I’m growling out, gripping his hair almost painfully tight and his eyes flutter for a moment as a sound rumbles in his chest. He meets my gaze and lets his mouth drop open, eyes daring me to do my worst and I think I may have just come then and there. I pull him down the same time I raise my hips, head flying back against the pillows when his throat constricts around me and he lets out a choked sound. 

That’s all he needs to take control, hands finding my hips and gripping hard enough to promise bruises in the morning as he finds a steady rhythm and I loosen my grip on his hair, letting him set the pace. That pit in my stomach starting to tighten and my hips jerk as much as his hands allow, his tongue doing dirty dirty things, making my thighs tighten around his shoulders. 

“A-Alex-“ I tug on his hair in warning and instead of pulling off he loosens his throat and fuck, that’s all it takes. I’m spurting white hot ropes down his throat, his name dying in my throat as my hips jerk and my thighs shake. He stays there, mouth open, lips flush and looking up at me with the most innocent eyes as if he isn’t currently blowing one of the Princes of England. 

I finally let his hair go, letting him pull away and expecting him to go spit in the toilet but instead he’s swallowing and licking his lips, a knowing grin on his face. 

“We should have done that much sooner.” He’s murmuring, chest heaving a little and all I can do is stare at him, brain fogged with everything Alex. The way he’s leaning over me, fingers brushing over my cheek gently and a look in his eyes that I always want to see. It's not quite love in its full bloom, but it's on its way there, and I want nothing more than to stay in this moment forever. 

“Can we just freeze time?” I whispers he words escaping before I can even think, fingers playing with the soft tufts of hair at the base of his scalp. 

Alex’s smile in response is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. It’s a smile that makes my heart swell with warmth and happiness, a smile that reassures me that we’re exactly where we’re meant to be. And then, without a word, his lips find mine in a kiss that speaks of everything we are and everything we’re becoming, a kiss that leaves me breathless and yearning for more. 

Tears spring to my eyes as our lips part, the intensity of the kiss leaving me emotionally overwhelmed. Alex, ever attuned to my feelings, brushes one the tears away with his thumb, his touch gentle and reassuring. His voice is a soft murmur against my ear as he whispers, “Sure, we can freeze time for a while.” 

It’s a promise and it soothes the storm of emotions raging within me. With a tenderness that speaks of his devotion to me, he shifts to lays beside me, our bodies pressed close. His forehead meets my cheek, a gesture of affection that feels like a warm embrace and he’s pulling the duvet over us, “We’ll freeze time for as long as you like.”

                           ┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Red White and Royal Blue Masterlist

New Tag List Form

TAGS: @clarks-letterman

#alex claremont diaz x you #alex claremont diaz x reader #alex claremont diaz #red white and royal blue x you #red white and royal blue x male reader #red white and royal blue #rwrb #rwrb x male reader #Alex Claremont Diaz x male reader #Alex Claremont -diaz fluff #Alex Claremont-diaz smut #Alex Claremont Diaz angst #red white and royal blue smut #red white and royal blue fluff #red white and royal blue angst #taylor zakhar perez

[dilf-din]

Love me Tender — a Rebelcaptain drabble

WC: 765

Warnings: none

A/N: I’ve been consumed with soft fluffy thoughts of these two. I got inspired by a post about your otp cooking together and this happened.

Steam ballooned out like a mushroom cloud when Cassian pulled back the pot lid, the liquid inside now at a rolling boil. The brown paper wrapped tightly around the pasta with a piece of twine crinkled as he peeled it back to dump the pieces into the pot. He picked up the cutting board and scraped the pile of meticulously diced vegetables into the adjacent pan of hot oil. They sizzled and popped, adding another layer of sound to the movement he was composing, Jyn’s voice ringing above it all, light and melodious.

She was seated on the counter chatting away about her reconnaissance earlier, if you could even call it that. They had been stationed in a small planet in the Jalor system. Their cover was that they were a newlywed couple who had moved there for work. The native people were lovely. The village they had moved into was full of older couples who willingly told Jyn all the local gossip when she had been making her rounds to introduce herself earlier.

Jyn ducked wordlessly out of the way as Cassian reached beyond her and into the spice cabinet to pull out a jar of something red and fragrant. With a gentle motion, he sprinkled some on the sautéing vegetables and stirred them around. A small towel draped over his shoulder and a look of concentration showing itself in the age lines on his forehead, and Jyn couldn’t help but admire him for a second, indulge in the fantasy that they really were new here in this quiet town. She reached out a callused palm and cradled the edge of his jaw for a second before brushing his hair out of his eyes. He flashed a look at her, a hint of a smile curling under his grown out facial hair.

“What are you thinking about?” he queried.

Jyn breathed out a deep sigh through her lips and tapped her fingers where they curled under the edge of the counter, hesitating a beat before responding, “What if this was real?”

Cassian drew his eyebrows inward, a bemused smile on his lips.

“You know, this. Us,” she almost laughed, gesturing weakly at the scene around them. “Being newlyweds, running away somewhere no one knows us at all,” she trailed off, her eyes settling on a crack in the tiled floor, suddenly unsure if that was something he would ever want.

In her mind’s eye, the crack started growing until it split the house completely in two, a chasm of longing separating them, loneliness creeping its tendrils around her throat. Though she had spent years at his side, a lifetime of abandonment and running allowed those thoughts to creep in from time to time.

His hand on her shoulder calmed her in an instant.

“In another world, we’re sneaking off after our vows to make love before the ceremony,” he whispered against her jaw and pressed a kiss there, drawing a small laugh from the pit of her belly. His hands rubbed over the smooth fabric of her thighs and settled at her hips.

“In another world,” the smooth cadence of his voice hummed thoughtfully, “We’re getting ready for our first dance.”

He scooted her off the counter and pulled her into a sway, her clumsy movements trying to match his fluid ones. Jyn buried her face in the crook of his neck and pinched her eyes closed, trying to imagine a room full of their favorite faces, people they had lost along the way.

Strong arms and shoulders took the lead, snd she quickly became his mirror. Her softness against him always felt too good to be true. She smoothed his war hardened edges like steel against stone. Cassian would be lying if he said he hadn’t been thinking the same things as Jyn, too hesitant to wish that, maybe one day, this would be their reality, that they would both make it out alive.

But for now, they had each other. They were safe, tucked lightyears away from the heart of the battle. Maybe they would both be brave enough to ask the other to run and never look back.

The sound of hissing pulled Cassian from his thoughts as some of the foamy water from the pasta had crept over the edge of the pot, sizzling against the element of the stove.

“Shoot,” he pulled himself away from her and quickly lifted the pot. Jyn plucked the towel from his shoulder and patted dry the remaining water. Always two halves of a whole, always in sync, in this lifetime and the next.

#rebelcaptain #Rebelcaptain fluff #jyn x cassian #cassian x jyn #rebelcaptain fic

[sovonight]

waiting (candle event, radri ver, 3k words) ↴

—✧✧✧—

As the light from the window recedes, casting her journal into shadow, Radri sets a candle upon the candle holder on the nightstand, then reaches over the side of the bed, rummaging around in her pack for flint and steel. As she fumbles around for it, Xan glances over from his place beside her, and extends a hand.

"Allow me," he says. With a small gesture and a whisper of a command, the wick catches flame.

"Oh," Radri says, looking up the lit candle, "Thank you."

She abandons her now unnecessary search, and opens her journal once more. Xan glances over again.

"I never found the chance to ask what you write about," he says.

"Mm?" Radri narrowly avoids leaving a blot of ink on the page, and gives her pen a dissatisfied frown, resolving to be more careful. "Normal things, I suppose. What happened today, what quests are in progress, what supplies we expended…."

"A summary of events, then, rather than a collection of personal reflections?" Xan says. "Did you keep such a journal in Candlekeep, as well?"

In Candlekeep? She had never considered it. Imagining it now, her entries would have blended together in their sameness; her days were a mixture of lessons and chores, with the only real variables being the subjects she was taught, and the people around her.

"I didn't keep a journal at all," Radri says. "I was always so tired of writing by the end of each day—the last thing I wanted to do was light a candle and write into the night." She gives her current setup a wry smile.

"But now that I'm gone… there's something comforting about the routine," Radri says. "The scent of paper, the ink… even the flame. Though Candlekeep isn't so full of candles as its name would suggest."

Then she blinks, and lifts her gaze from her journal, glancing over to him.

"I remember seeing that you have a journal, as well. Don't you keep track of similar things?"

"Of our every encounter, foe, and death?" Xan says. "If I dwell too long on what has happened to us, I soon grow astonished at the fact that we are even still alive—and against my will, the mind wanders. I prefer to keep my entries to more pleasant reflections."

"Pleasant reflections?" Radri echoes, curious, "Like what?"

"What else?" Xan says, gazing at her softly. "Thoughts of you, and our love."

—

Radri swirls the liquid wax around in the flat pan of the candle holder, drawing circles around the dying flame. Just as the wick is about to run out, she catches the flame on a fresh one, and sets the new candle beside her closed journal. Her journal entry for the day is complete; she is tired, and she is long due for reverie; and yet, something keeps her awake.

Xan. She sighs, staring into the dull, abandoned pool, watching the wax slowly begin to solidify again. She doesn't know why she's still waiting for him. He prefers to study his spells alone—and she has often fallen into reverie waiting for him to finish—but never so consistently or so often as in these past several days. A shadow has fallen across his dark, gray eyes, and though she lingers in bed, pretending to still be in reverie to ensure he gets all the hours he needs, he hardly looks rested.

When she asks, Xan says nothing. But—she hasn't really asked, has she? Are you alright, is no true substitute for, I'm worried about you. Is something wrong? Is it something I did? Are you avoiding m—

Radri gives her head a sharp shake. No—it does no use to jump to conclusions, and she's been through this dance before. All she has to do is wait for Xan to come tell her everything.

…No, that's not it. The last time she had waited, in just a tenday he had formed a conviction to leave her forever.

Radri stands, sending the candle's flame flickering in the residual breeze of her movement, worry suddenly taking hold in her chest. Her heart is set—she's going to go find him. Xan is probably still at that worn table on the floor below; at this hour, there are none but the stillness and darkness of night to keep him company. Her mind made up, Radri crosses the room in three quick strides, and opens the door—

—And comes face to face with Xan, who stumbles back a step in surprise.

"Radri," Xan gasps. With the glimpse he'd caught of her expression, he sends a cautious glance behind him, before facing her again. "You—you looked as if you were about to storm a dungeon. Are we leaving already?"

Then he looks past her, into the room, where the wax carnage by the candle holder she's been using to stave off the darkness serves as clear evidence of her sleeplessness.

"…Or have you not even rested yet, at all?" Xan looks worriedly down at her. Radri feels, for an instant, abashed to have raised his concern—but no, she has to collect herself. She is worried about him. And she must say it!

"I… I couldn't," Radri says. Yes, a good start—

"I…" she continues, and now, she should ask him now—

"I hadn't yet received your kiss goodnight." NO!

But her excuse has already left her in a nervous rush of words, too late to be swallowed now. Xan, understandably, stares at her—and mentally, she buries her face in her hands. How could her resolve have fled her so quickly?

"I… did not know it was that significant to you," Xan says, slightly puzzled, and it takes her a second to remember what she'd said that he's responding to, "Forgive me for the oversight."

Leaning carefully in, as though partly convinced that she might prove to be an illusion once he touches her, Xan leaves a simple, light kiss on her cheek. When he pulls back away, he seems silently astonished at having confirmed that she is, in fact, real. But Radri's mind holds no room to process this observation; her fingertips rise to touch the kiss he'd placed on her cheek, and her face reddens in embarrassment. He'd… he'd humored her… but perhaps this is the best approach. After all, it's not in her nature to tackle an encounter head-on.

"Are you going to come in and join me?" Radri asks. Though she tries for casual, her voice seems, to her ears, to betray her hours of waiting and doubt. But if Xan thinks the same, it does not show, and he does not refuse her.

Xan moves through his nightly ritual, putting his spellbook upon the nightstand and leaning his moonblade against it, so that he might always have it on hand. Meanwhile, Radri feels as nervous inside as she did the first time they'd shared a room, and finds herself standing still at the foot of the bed, uncertain what to do with her arms.

Xan lays down on the bed, then looks up at her. Perhaps it's just her, or the distance, or the flicker of the candle—but she thinks she sees amusement in his eyes.

"Come here," Xan says fondly, and in that moment, the spell of her nervousness is broken. She hastens over and falls into his arms; Xan's soft, breathy chuckle floats across the top of her head.

"If you were in such a hurry, you need not have waited for me."

She curls up closer, nestling her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. He misunderstands; what she'd waited for is his closeness.

"Will you take my hand?" Radri asks; she misses his company in reverie. Xan sighs.

"I am in no state to show you my memories of Evereska tonight, if that is what you were hoping for."

"I don't want to see, so much as I just want to be with you."

"Well, then, I am already with you." Xan kisses her hair. Her heart clenches, and she tries again.

"Xan… has something been troubling you, lately?"

"I am surprised that you would ask me this," he says. "Many things trouble me, Estel'amin, and at many times." Though his answer is neutral, something beneath it is just slightly tense.

"Does it have to do with me?"

"You are on my mind too often for these troubling thoughts to never lead back to you." But he had hesitated… just barely.

Radri finds her breath caught in her throat. This is the moment; she cannot bear to blurt out any more excuses.

"Is it why you wait for me to fall into reverie, first, before you join me?" Her heart beats so loudly that it nearly drowns out the sound of her own voice in her ears. "I—Is it… why you've been been avoiding me?"

In the aftermath of releasing those words from her mind, she barely registers the fact that Xan's body has stilled, his breath frozen in his chest; her thoughts, many and jumbled, tumble forth, fighting for the chance to form on her tongue.

"I—I'm sorry," Radri finds herself stammering. "After all… it's an uneven arrangement, isn't it? You have such a beautiful city to show me, and I only have books and repetition—the same story, day in and day out. And then I finally left, only to start having these visions… these nightmares. Why would you want to live through them with me? I understand, really. I should never have—"

"Radri."

With one swift movement, she's no longer curled up against his chest, but laying on her back on the bed itself. Xan is leant over her, his arms on either side of her shoulders, his face cast into uneven shadow by the curtain of his hair. She can't help but notice the dark circles beneath his eyes, which are still apparent even in this dim light—but more than that, what strikes her is how pained he looks by her words.

"Is that what you think?"

Radri feels, suddenly, that she's gotten the answer very wrong. She's transported back to Candlekeep: one of her tutors stares at her from the board, tutting at her, as Imoen, sprawled casually at the desk next to hers, signals secretly to her what she should have said instead.

But the Imoen of her mind's eye has no choice but to fade away without helping her; there is nowhere in the world that contains knowledge of what Xan is thinking right now, except for Xan himself.

"What," she says, quietly, "Should I think instead?"

Xan, surprisingly, does not answer immediately. He seems, for the first time in a while, lost for words—though not for a lack of emotion for them to express. She watches his expression shift, from reflection, to frustration, to helplessness, to—

"I have been trying to shield you from my struggles," Xan manages at last, "But I see that I have failed."

Pulling away from her, he continues, "I… I keep having visions."

"I am alone with you on a beautiful glade—and we are ambushed by monsters. I join you in your reverie—and wake up next to your lifeless corpse. I let down my guard, and you are taken from me—" He pauses, taking in a shaky breath, eyes glazed over by the memory, "And there are many more. You cannot imagine the perils my eyes see."

"There were always fears, Radri. Fear of dying, fear of losing you, of hurting you, of dragging you into the void of my lonely, desolate existence… But now they are not simply that: they are live nightmares I cannot escape, and I dread my reverie every night. How can I share it with you, when I know what my mind will show you?" Xan says, and pulls his gaze away from her, bowing his head. "I am lost, Estel'amin. Lost in darkness… and even the candles of your room are not able to drive it away."

Radri begins to reach out to him, but pauses, his words still running through her head. She feels like she's forced this from him; she's sorry to have pushed him. Perhaps, if she'd just observed in silence longer, she could have guessed that this was what troubled him… but she can't help but think back to that first night, when their shared reverie went awry. Even with her tears, her confession, his words, and his comfort, what she remembers above all is relief, to no longer be holding all of her fears inside.

So she brings herself to him, and she holds him close.

"You can show me," Radri says. "I wish I knew what to say to drive this darkness away… I wish I could do for you what you do for me. But I will always be here to listen."

"I want to know everything about you, Tahlimil," she confesses; despite having spoken it in her mind many times, his name is still new on her tongue, and she feels his breath catch to hear it. "Not just your hopes, but your fears. Not just your shining moments of happiness, but your present sorrows. I want to be here with you, through all of it. There is not a moment in which I would wish that you had spared me… I don't think it's possible for us to spare each other, anymore."

Her heart is beating loud and fast in her chest; she wonders if he can feel it, if he can tell that she feels more nervous and vulnerable now than she does when she whispers to him that she loves him, before all the eyes of the world. Xan, held close, now pulls away to look her in the eyes.

"Estel'amin," Xan says, "I…"

He looks taken by disbelief and awe; he looks as if he wishes to kiss her. But then, another thought comes to him—and she can spy this exact moment, by the sudden look of resolve in his eyes.

"There is a question that has been on my mind for far too long," Xan says. "I have agonized over when to ask it, but I think it can only be now. I feel as you do. I would share everything with you: my memories, my emotions, my life… and I would know you, in turn, as dearly and intimately as I have only ever known myself."

He takes her hand; his fingers, and the rings upon them, are normally cool upon her skin, but tonight they exude pure warmth.

"I wish to forge the bond that will unite my world with yours," Xan says. "I wish to have you in my arms, Estel'amin… will you have me?"

The building elation that she'd felt throughout his first sentences falters, stuttering to a halt. Suddenly, their closeness comes to the forefront of her awareness. His touch, his gaze, and even the mundane way the fabric of their clothes has tangled together around their bodies; to notice these things now leaves a weight in her chest.

"Are you afraid?" Xan asks, softly.

She can't respond; he does not push her.

"I know," Xan says, and if Radri were less preoccupied by her thoughts, she would note that his tone betrays a hint of nervousness, "This commitment is far too great to fathom in a single moment. An elven bond is the closest intimacy I could have asked of you; I have had many days to reflect on it, and yet I have not granted you the same. I am not so fragile that I will turn away from you if you refuse me tonight."

Hearing that, her head jerks up, startling him slightly. Refuse him—in this? How could he imagine that she would, when even in the earliest of their days together—after she, by a miracle, had managed to convince him to stay—she had thought secretly, wistfully back to the kind of bond she had only ever been able to read about in books?

"No… No, I have been thinking on it, too," Radri says, and clutching the emotion in her heart, admits, "I am ready for our bond—but it is all I am ready for, right now."

"Then our bond is all I ask."

Shocked, she looks up at him.

"What do you mean?" Radri asks, "You… you're still willing, to...?"

"Radri," Xan says, a fond, relieved smile pulling at his lips, "Our bond is the one part of my question that I had always feared you would refuse. The rest can wait until the day you wish for it."

For a moment, she can do nothing but stare in disbelief. That feeling of elation returns, building little by little, replacing the heaviness in her chest.

"Can you ask me again?" Radri says, feeling somewhat breathless, "S—so… so that I might accept properly?"

"I have longed to forge the bond that will unite my world with yours," Xan begins again for her, and adds, with a look of unbearable tenderness, "I love you, Estel'amin. Will you have me?"

And at last she answers in a whispered, "Yes."

—

When Radri wakes, Xan is sitting up beside her, already awake himself. She stretches her arms out to hug him around the waist, and closes her eyes again.

"You've spent less time in reverie than I," she grumbles, "How is it that you're already awake?"

"Is it your wish that I return to bed, then?" Xan asks, brushing through her hair with an idle hand. "I will… But first, I noticed that you were running short of candles, so I brought you one."

Xan presents her with a lit candle. Radri, sitting up, beholds it with bewilderment.

"I… Thank you, but… if you're already burning it now, won't it go to waste?" Radri asks, looking at him. Still new to her heart, his presence and his feelings there are not yet easy to sort through, but she manages to single one out: anticipation.

"There is more to it, Estel'amin," he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek, "Just trust me."

Holding the candle between them, he faces her seriously.

"I wish to give you a promise, together with this candle," Xan says. "I… I feel you, now, as clearly as I feel myself. I know your fears as sharply as I know mine. And I promise: while you are here, with me, in reverie or in the waking world, you will not run out of candles, and whenever you have need of me, you will not find me wanting. —If you do have need of me, that is."

He extinguishes the candle, and looks at her with a slight smile.

"I almost do not believe it, but I feel… hopeful," Xan says. "And there, the candle is out. Do you forgive me for squandering it, now?"

"Yes," Radri says, barely managing to voice the word with how touched she is, and clearly past the need for any apology of his. "I'm… I…"

Xan just gazes contentedly at her, looking more at peace this morning than he has in days, and rather than trying to put into words what she feels after hearing what he said, she just wants to hold him. So she does.

"I suppose you will want us to return to reverie now," Xan says, his voice slightly muffled by the arms she's thrown around his neck. "I appreciate your offer to serve as my blanket, but it will be difficult to kiss you goodnight in this position… and I know how you cannot bear to forgo it."

"What even are you talking about," Radri groans, having reached her limit for deciphering spoken words the moment Xan's candle went out. There's simply too much information: from her heart, her head, this bond, and even the sun, whose rays are now peeking irritatingly in from the gap in the curtains at the window.

"Nothing," Xan answers, feeling all of this from her, and deciding to postpone his teasing for later. They have time. This hour, this day... and yes, perhaps even tomorrow.

—

full xan/radri compilation

#a remix/rewrite mushing two of his events together for my fav bhaalspawn #xan x radri #sovo writes

[turtle-babe83]

Okay I am SO SORRY- I got confused with everything and still am not used to tumblr. Ignore all the other requests I made- here’s the actual one.

Fem reader with raphael, nsfw. He just had a fight with Leo and he is gonna pound reader into the next month 👀

Here’s the prompt requests!

Prompt: #5, #53, and #56

Location: #58

Action/kinks: #84 & 85, #86, #89, #94, #96, #97, #101, #102, #105, #109, #112, and #113

Inspired dialogue: #116, #123, #130, #137, #143, and #147

Kinda in the mood for something intense lol. Feel free to reject this aswell! No pressure!! :D

This one is going to be fun!! ♥️♥️♥️ I hope you like it @jynxthelittlelynx!

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Raph x F!Reader

Warning: Language and NSFW content 18+ only

The shouting coming from the tunnels was the first clue. The rattling chains and stomping feet were clue number two. The third clue was the growls and curses coming from the one making most of the noise. You sighed from your spot on the couch and placed a bookmark in your latest paperback. It was going to be a rough night.

“Hello, Raphael,” you greeted him, drawing out his name like a plea for mercy.

He grunted as he stormed off to his bedroom. You closed your eyes and counted to ten, steeling yourself before following. When you entered his room, he was pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed. Your eyes followed every jerky, huffed movement. He breathed in deeply, puffing out his chest. Then, like a tiny spark had ignited a powder keg, he exploded.

“Fuckin’ Leo and his bullshit! He thinks he knows everything. He neva listens to a word I say. Ya know, I might have a good idea once in a while if he would botha to shut up an’ listen to me,” he raged.

This was nothing new. The same old song and dance that you had to listen to every few weeks. Worse, it was so close to their spring mating season. The time of year when they were hormonal, territorial, and ready to fight at the drop of a hat, or a misspoken word. You had wondered how this year would pan out since you and the red brute had made your relationship official.

As he continued to rant about his elder brother’s alleged flaws, you contemplated a way to make this evening more enjoyable for both of you. Well…there was one thing that always caught his rapt attention. Reaching behind you, your nimble fingers turned the lock. So engrossed as he was in his tirade, he didn’t even notice you making your way around the room, slowly peeling off articles of clothing as you went. By the time you had made it full circle, you were completely bare, and he finally looked up.

Raphael froze at the sight of you, stark naked with a come hither stare. Bedroom eyes, he believed it was called. What had he been saying? Hell if it even mattered anymore. His body was swiftly stirring to life and more than willing to focus on the beautiful woman standing before him.

“Bed,” you purred, “now.”

Raphael’s eye ridges shot up at your sultry tone, and he moved to obey.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He maneuvered his larger frame into the middle of the bed, then scooted so he was leaned against his headboard. He patted his lap with a leer, growling, “Come to Daddy.”

A shiver worked it’s way down your spine at the sound of his lust-roughened voice. You made a show of swaying your hips as you sauntered over to the edge of the bed. You climbed up on all fours and crawled across the mattress until you reached his thick thighs. Straddling his lap, you pressed your damp folds to his still pant-covered groin, rubbing your clit on the bulge beneath the fabric. Raphael scented the air and his jaw clenched at the smell of your arousal.

“Still want to talk about Leo?” you asked, pointedly.

Raph’s meaty paws came to rest on your hips and he bucked up, making you gasp.

“Leo who?”

With that, his mouth descended and coherent thought vanished. No one could kiss like Raphael. His tongue twisted and tangled, licked and coaxed, until you were breathless and your own lips swollen. You continued to roll your hips, soaking his lap with your wetness as he met you roll for roll. It was beautifully building the pressure at your apex, but not quite enough to get you to the finish. His name came out as a desperate whimper as you ground down harder, and he swore, tearing his lips from where they were sucking at your neck.

“Say that again,” he moaned, “I want ta hear yer voice.”

Your breath hitched as you tried to articulate words. He bucked up harder as you struggled to do as he asked.

“Again,” he repeated, more forcefully, “I wanna hear my name again. Just like ya said it before.”

“Raphael!”

A smirk graced his handsome face and he licked his lips before ordering you to touch yourself. You stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then hastily reached down between you and rubbed furiously at your aching nub. You needed release and you needed it now. Raph watched your fingers circle, and just as you began to stiffen, he flipped you both so that he hovered over you. Shock slackened your jaw as you realized that he ruined your orgasm. You smacked his bicep and scowled at his shit-eating grin.

“Whatsa matter, baby?” he drawled.

You bit back a curse, knowing it would only egg him on. Schooling your face, you gave him a demure smile.

“I think you owe me, sweetheart,” you replied, voice like saccharine. You tugged at the waistband of his pants and with a pout, you muttered, “You’re wearing too much.”

Raph barked out a quick laugh but removed his pants and underwear one-handed, while still holding himself above you. The feel of his pebbled skin against yours was always a little thrill, the contrast so stimulating. The turtle settled comfortably between your spread thighs, pressing his plush lips against yours. You curled one leg around his back, just under his shell, holding him close to you. As his kisses drifted down further, you stretched like a contented cat and spread your legs wider. He lingered over your breasts, sucking at your nipples and lapping the underside roughly, just like you liked. He left hickeys on both hips and then turned his attention to your thighs.

“Not so hard!” you admonished him after a particularly hard bite to your inner thigh. He just chuckled and licked the spot to smooth it. He caught your eye and then the hand that was pressed against the opposite thigh slid higher. You bit your bottom lip as he worked one finger into your tight entrance. A moan warbled out of your throat as he curled it and rubbed just right.

“Ya like that, don’t ya?” he smirked.

You nodded, rolling your hips along with each thrust of his thick finger. He continued to watch your face as he drew you closer and closer to your first release. He licked up your thigh again and caught some of your juices on his tongue. A churr rumbled his chest at the taste. He curled his finger again and your eyes rolled back as an orgasm wracked your body. He barely gave you time to finish before yanking his finger out and sucking it clean. You panted and pushed up onto your elbows. His finger slid out of his mouth with a wet pop and he leered.

“Spread those legs, baby. I like to eat my dessert first.”

Hooking your hands under your knees, you held your legs back and wide open for him, blushing at being so exposed but too turned on to care. He let his long tongue hang out and wiggled it suggestively before diving headlong into your pussy, stabbing deep. On the heels of your release, your inner walls were sensitive and clenched involuntarily at the intrusion. A gush of fluids coated his tongue and he slurped and smacked his lips. As much as you were enjoying his ministrations, you couldn’t help but want to return the favor.

“Raph-oh god! You’re so good at that, baby,” you moaned as he licked roughly. “but…I-ah-I want to-to…”

He pulled back for a split second to ask, “Ya wanna what?”

As you opened your mouth to answer, he latched onto your clit and sucked, so a wail came out instead of words. You were about to go over the edge, again, and you hadn’t done anything to him yet. Reluctantly, you pushed at his head and made him look at you.

“I want to touch you, too! Let me taste you,” you pleaded, breathlessly.

A grin spread across his face and he moved so fast that once again, you were nearly dizzy with the position change. You suddenly found yourself atop your beau, straddling his face, but your attention was focused on the hard length of his cock, bobbing just above the lower edge of his plastron. You felt saliva gathering in your mouth and wrapped a hand around the base. You could never get over halfway without gagging, he was so long and wide. You licked a slow stripe up to his tip, savoring the salty taste of him. The hint of his musk in your nostrils turned you on even further and you swallowed him down with no other preamble. Twisting and turning your head, letting your tongue massage his shaft as you coated it well in your spit. Satisfied that he was slick enough, you bobbed your head at a steady pace, listening for the certain grunt he made when you hit the right rhythm. There it was. The grunt and softly muttered curse. You mentally patted yourself on the back as you added a little more suction with each bob.

Raphael paused for a moment to enjoy everything. Feeling your mouth tight and warm around his cock, staring up at your ample ass cheeks while your soaked folds dripped down onto his waiting lips. This was heaven. This was what he wanted for the rest of his life, this worship and adoration of one another, and he knew he only wanted it with you. On the brink of his mating season, he resolved to focus on making you his completely. With that in mind, he redoubled his efforts, attacking your folds with a frenzy. Licking and lapping everything he could reach, plunging his tongue deep inside again and again, then switching to your clit to flick and suck alternately. He knew he was doing well when you hesitated your sucking to moan around his tip.

Nope. That was it. He couldn’t wait any longer.

You squealed as you felt yourself moving once again, flipped around and positioned on all fours. There was no warning as Raph grabbed your hips and slammed his cock as deep as he could go on the first thrust. It nearly knocked the breath out of you! The next thrust was just as hard and just as deep, as if he was trying to crawl into your body, cock first.

“MINE,” he growled, and you felt the word vibrate through your body like a brand or a seal.

It felt right. You belonged to him and he belonged to you. You knew it intimately and without any doubt. Your relationship may be just less than a year old, but your friendship had created a bond that was only growing stronger. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and you trembled.

“Yours,” you whispered, “and you are mine.”

A resounding churr belted out in response to your heartfelt words and he slipped his arms around your waist, pressing his plastron to your back as he kept fucking you, easing up a touch. But you didn’t want gentle. You wanted your turtle. Your rough and rowdy hothead.

“Don’t hold back,” you bit out between clenched teeth, squeezing your walls around his cock and bucking back. “Show me how you wanna mate with me, Raphael. Show me.”

“Fuck,” he spat out, feeling his adrenaline rise at the intensity of your plea.

Feeling an overwhelming urge to bite, he clamped his teeth down on the place where your shoulder and neck met, hard enough to mark and just shy of drawing blood. The pain of it only increased your pleasure as he kept his thrusts deep but powerful. A litany of curses fell from your lips between loud moans and attempts to say his name. Raph felt a surge of pride for each “Ra-ahhhh” you uttered. He was going to blow his load soon and he’d be damned if you didn’t cum one more time first. His skillful finger played your nub like a violin, creating a symphony of sensations in a rising crescendo that peaked with a wail from your throat. Your exquisite finale.

With a groan, he released his bite and straightened his back, grasping your hips tight. Totally wiped out, you went limp as a rag doll while he pumped you full of his seed. He strained on the last two thrusts, then finally pulled his half-hard member from your still quivering cunt. He gathered you into his arms, murmuring words of affirmation and asking if you were alright and if he was too rough. You shifted so that you were completely encompassed in his embrace, snuggling your head under his chin with a yawn as you reassured him that you were absolutely fine.

“I love ya,” he mumbled into your hair, bringing a smile to your face. “I love this. I love us. No one else can put up wit my bullshit like ya, and I don’t eva want anyone else. It’s all you, babe.”

You tilted your head up to kiss his lips gently, eyes shiny with emotion.

“I feel the same. There’s no one else for me, but you,” you assured him.

His arms tightened around you and it was quiet for a few minutes, when suddenly something struck you and you giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Raph asked.

You smirked and quipped, “I oughta go thank Leo for getting you all worked up for me.”

Raph raised an eye ridge, snorting, “Again, Leo who?”

You both laughed as you settled in for some much needed rest, content in one another’s arms. ♥️

@waterstar2016 @leosgirl82 @post-apocalyptic-daydream @nittleboo @sharpwindow @androidships007 @raisin-shell @tmntspidergirl @thelaundrybitch @mysticboombox @zowise2912 @zombiesnips-blog @xanadu702 @hotredphoenix @happymoonangel @tmnt-tychou @forerunnertracer @aurora-the-kunoichi @imthegreenfairy88 @coulrofilia-sexuell @raphslovemuffin80 @raphaelsrightarm @ravn-87 @raphsgrl @raphielover @turtlesmakemehappy @fyreball66 @thelostandforgottenangel @lilyssims @slasherblog @sewerninno @scholastic-dragon @pheradream15 @8pmblackcoffee @drowninghell @fluffytriceratops @dilucsflame33 @s-s-ironnie @rheawritesforfun @chicchanmooshy @roxosupreme @lunar-corgimon @bunnyraptor69 @ladyofparchments @morning-sun-brah @lec743 @inspiredwriter @sketch-and-write-lover @turtlebros4u

#tmnt #tmnt bayverse #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #turtlebabe83 #raphael #Raph #tmnt raph #tmnt raphael #tmnt raphael x reader #bayverse raphael #bayverse raph #tmnt aged up

[howyouloveyourdragon]

alpha visenya targaryen decides to have a child with an omega lady of lower house since she and aegon the conqueror struggle so much to have children together. Headcanons or another format if that is what you prefer.

thank you anon! i found this concept really interesting :) when my requests are open again, feel free to send a follow up request, i'd love to answer it <3

pronouns: she/her warnings: possessive behaviour, mentions of misogyny, nsfw section divider: firefly-graphics

Visenya and Aegon had been trying for what felt like centuries and neither party particularly enjoyed their performance in duty

when Aenys is born she and her brother-husband make an agreement

they will affirm her position and she will take a wife of her own–she favours women anyway and so they will perform their duties to their house separately

they married out of duty, not of desire, they both knew this

so her search begins, inviting all houses with omega children across the seven kingdoms to celebrations over six moons time

however it is when the last moon passes that she finally find you, but she's certain you are worth the wait

her eyes dart across the room until a scent both familiar and foreign infiltrates her nose and she has to flutter her eyes for a second to take in the exquisite smell

her eyes flash back open on you as your modest frame curtsies before a lord and she growls, rising from her seat and gliding gracefully toward you

she flickers her eyes across your face, you have pulled your expression that is both firm but timid–you must be from House Humble

that almost deters her but the longing in her moves her feet faster than her mind can act.

she clears her throat to garner your attention and bites back her grin when your own eyes sparkle with surprise

"My Queen," You greet with a stumbling curtsy–she holds back her excitement, not wanting to scare you off too quickly

"My lady," She returns with stiff shoulders and a graceful bow of her head, you flush at the attention. "might you walk with me? I hear you are from the Ironlands, perhaps you would like to see our prosperous soils." she's uncomfortable and you can tell but your mouth hangs agape before your guardian's warm hand prods at the middle of your back and you jolt back to attention. You nod. "Yes, my Queen." She returns the gesture and this time lets the sharp tilt to her mouth wink at you

Visenya extends her arm much like her brother had done before and watched as your tentative one linked into it

she marvels at the strength of your brow and the small scars dotting along your skin–a lady fit for a Queen indeed

"do you know why my brother and I have asked you and your family here?" she asks and you tilt your head. "I am looking for a wife." your eyes widen and a cough resounds in your throat

you quickly make attempt to excuse your behaviour but she only tuts and slides her hand under your chin, circling the space between your chin and jaw gently

"My good lady, do not leave me so soon," she purrs "Your Queen demands your presence." Her gaze follows the movement of your lips and she takes great pleasure in the way your breath hitches. She pans her head coyly. "Would you like to be my pretty darling wife, my lady? For me to lavish you in riches and fruits you have never seen?" when you soften for her, a rumbling gears in her heart

she squeezes your flesh gently and when your gaze remains as steel as iron staring into hers, she knows you're just the one she wants

she grins when you agree and leads you back into a large hall to announce the news

everyone is shocked and especially as no one was told the reason for this ball being held

and then your guardian/s bow low, one knee down, and the rest of your family follow after them

she takes you as her wife and smothers you with affection once you are safely being the doors of your new marital chambers

when you finally get pregnant she's so proud that she shows you off at every opportunity, balls, meetings and anything else she likes to parade you around

NSFW

Visenya is definitely more of a dominant partner

i think she would enjoy a power play where you both battle a bit for the dominant role but she will win even if it means playing with bondage as well

she does reward you however for being her perfect wife, eating you out until you're screaming of overstimulation

her favourite thing about you in bed is how vocal you are, if you try to stay quiet, she'll punish you for it

kinky as hell, game for anything, probably founded half of the kinks in westeros

i think she'd be into light bondage but prefers when she can have your body squirming and thrusting against her

she likes power and brat play so expect a little degredation but she'd never say anything to intentionally hurt your feeling and she's always very calculated in her words

if you say you're not into something she won't push for it

her favourite thing is to finger you and talk about you with her child

after so long trying for a baby and being unsuccessful she's ecstatic to start afresh and with this new life, she has a bit of a breeding kink

she loves fingering you because of the cute way your face scrunches up as you whine

her thrusts always follow a pattern of long long long short short long etc but sometimes she likes to surprise you

she herself isn't especially vocal because she doesn't like being seen as vulnerable but she will slowly open up throughout the development of your marriage

surprisingly not into spanking however, she'd much rather find her punishments in edging you right before an important meeting or event

her favourite thing for you to call her in bed is your conqueror, she likes to think that she has consumed you body and soul

when you eventually get pregnant her sexual prowess only gets stronger and you can barely leave the bed, she takes you in every physical way possible

#alpha visenya #alpha visenya targaryen #alpha visenya targaryen x reader #visenya targaryen x reader #alpha visenya targaryen x reader smut #visenya targaryen smut #alpha visenya targaryen smut #visenya targaryen x reader headcanons #visenya targaryen x reader headcannons #visenya targaryen x reader hcs #visenya targaryen x reader smut hcs #visenya targaryen x reader smut headcanons #targaryen headcanons #targaryen smut headcanons #asoiaf headcanons

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 2

A/n: I've made chapter 2, enjoy :).

Chapter 1

I was having the same dream again; I was light in thin air. My movements were fluid as if there were no gravity to keep my legs grounded. My right leg stayed in place whilst my left leg was raised, turning inward toward my supporting leg. I spun over and over without the slightest feeling of light-headedness or dizziness. No matter where I moved, the gold plate within the birdcage did not shatter. My arms raised in mid-position as I extended my left leg, hoping to free myself from this prison eventually. My chest felt light; my mind had no fear, even within this cage. I felt the quick flashes of wind touch my face with every motion. I wanted to spread my wings. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be released from my cage. I wanted to reach the world outside. I. wanted. to. Fly. The same spinning visage of the golden bars occurred repeatedly, experiencing the same routine. The golden plate never shattered beneath me, holding my weight. A sense of comfort washed over me, as though seeing the same scenery brought ease to my mind. As I spun, I felt a surge of adrenaline to try something different, to spin in the other direction, to break the dance routine. I tried to push my arms down and lower my left leg. To no avail did my body react; I still spun. The second time, I pushed my arms down slightly harder, yet again to no avail did my body react. The third time, I pushed even harder, the pressure becoming uncomfortable; despite myself spinning, I pushed more not giving up. I pushed—spinning more—I pushed—spinning further—I pushed harder—I can feel the pain rising—I. just. need. to. push. harder. I could feel my face flinching from the pain rising in my limbs going against the force keeping me dancing. Eventually, with one final push, I yelled out, falling to my front as my arms moved to prevent my face from hitting the ground. I breathed heavily, in and out, as my body lay on the ground. Hair strands poked out from the once neatened bun as sweat slid down my face. The final scene panned out to witness me lying there, still, static, trapped within the golden bird cage.

My eyes opened as my vision tried to adjust to make sense of my reality. Once again, it was a nightmare or inspiration. I placed my hands on my face, rubbing my eyes awake; it’s not the first time my sleep schedule has gone off. Once my eyes had adjusted, I noticed I was at my desk with my computer opened from this morning. As my hand ran along my head, I felt something attached to my forehead—paper. I ripped it off, holding it in front of me, realising it was a character sheet for the fae queen, Aelwynn. How late did I stay up last night? I must’ve been writing the first chapter; I recall updating something—huh? On the sheet containing Aelwynn, I noticed her hair was white. I didn’t recall colouring her, but I couldn’t exactly remember what happened last night. As I examined her hair, my finger ran down the traced lines. I quickly grabbed my pencil, drawing extra features of her appearance and outfit. As the pencil traced the outline, it turned into a white gown flowing in motion with the wind as she held a staff made of the oldest oak and decorated in diamonds and quarts. To top it off, I added a crown placed at the back, with pointed edges facing up made from silvery steel. As my hand holding the pencil came off the page, I stopped to glance at her new design. My eyes lit up with amazement as my lips became agape; I was in utter awe of my new creation. Yes! This! This is Aelwynn, the way I wanted to interpret her, an otherworldly beauty that’s kind and graceful, how a true fae queen should look!

However, my eyes glance over to another piece of paper to the side, one depicting a rough sketch of Sarek, my expression nearly dropped. I had figured out Aelwynn, but I’ve yet to figure out how to design the Pirate King. I placed the rough sketch into the pile of papers and neatly folded them on my computer desk. Glancing at the computer, I saw the first few pages written within the document, and the pages went into detail regarding the first drafts. The first couple of chapters read of the pair's first encounter crossing paths: The fae queen danced around the forest alone on an island untouched by man, guarded by heavy forces of magic. She protected the will of fairies and the sources of time. One day, the shield guarding the forest broke. A band of corsairs slashed their way through the dense greenery in search of a plethora of magic jewels. Instead, what they stumbled upon was worth much more than any coffer full of gold or silver. Standing in front of Sarek’s gaze was a woman draped in white, her hair of silver and skin of ice. She danced with the younger fairies of the forest. In his greed, he was smitten; he ordered his men to take her and everything she had. She fell prey. Tears shed down her smooth cheek; she pleaded ‘to take her instead, leave her domain in peace, and they shall be granted with what they desired most’. They complied with her request, binding her in rope, leading her into a world not of her own. She gazed into the eyes of a man whose greed was far more than his ambition; his appearance was—

I jolted from my seat upon hearing my phone’s ringtone; looking at the number, I recognised it was my mum. I picked up the phone, holding it to my ear. I was expecting a ‘Hello, aren’t you going to tell me about your day?’  or ‘You didn’t ring me yesterday; how did you go?’.

I picked up the phone with a “Hi—mo—uh mom”, I said with a slight stutter.

“Y/n, oh, it’s good to hear your voice; I was nearly worried you weren’t going to pick up yesterday,” she said in a high-engaging tone.

“Yeah, sorry I was bus—”.

“So? How was it?” She sounded excited, yet I forgot what happened.

“Was what?” I replied, confused.

“The ballet lessons, the one you attended yesterday.” Once I remembered, the thought sank in; I hadn’t told her these were private lessons.

“O-oh, the lessons, yeah, it’s excellent; I’ve made many connections already.” My lips curved into a smile, trying to make my voice sound sincere.

“Excellent! See what I told you? You're already shining brightly”. I smiled to myself; hearing her words made me feel heartened.

“So, tell me, what’s the instructor like? Is he supportive of you? I know you have trouble speaking to people, and I want to make sure—”

“He’s fine, Mom. He’s—” I pause for a moment, thinking back to the time I met him in that room alone. When our eyes met, I didn’t flinch nor look away. His eyes were like ice, and his hair was like snow; it ignited something I hadn’t remembered in a long time.

“Different.” That was all I could respond with.

“Is he cute?” She asked. I nearly flushed with embarrassment, feeling my cheeks red like a beet.

“What?! N-No! N-not in that way” Where did that come from? Did she really expect me to say yes?

“Oh, I suppose he might be too old for you; what about the guys in your class? Are they any good-looking?” she responded.

“I don’t know; I hadn’t noticed.” I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh, hm, well, what about the girls? Surely there are some good-looking girls there too”.

“W-What!” I was flabbergasted.

“I’d be accepting either way—”.

I replied, “Currently, I’m—fine with just me, myself and I”.

 That answer had seemed to satisfy her for now.

“Oh, well—of course, if that’s what you're happy with, I’m just happy you're getting out there and speaking to someone. That’s a massive achievement, and I’m so proud of you for that!” she sounded happy, at least.

I sighed deeply. “Thank you”.

“Baby steps, that’s all it takes”, was her final response before I hung up the phone. Sometimes, despite them being my parents, I stumble over my words, even speaking over the phone.

I sighed, gazing at the time. I had no idea that my first lesson was only for an hour. I wouldn’t mind being there early; it was better than falling asleep. What am I saying? I’d much rather sleep! I recall Mr. Oropherion saying he wished me to be there precisely during the seventh hour. Man, the way he phrased it was weird. I quickly rose from my desk, grabbed what I needed, grabbed my car keys, and changed into yesterday's outfit. I should probably stop by to find a leotard, a tutu, or even a pair of pointe shoes. Once I was prepared, I dashed to the car. Making my way through the door leading outside, the cold air hit me; the temperature must’ve dropped vastly since it was dark out. It was nearly seven, after all. To my stupidity, I forgot to park the car inside. Shit, shit, shit, the cars frosted. I panicked, quickly running back inside to grab my parker, zipping it up and then wrapping a scarf around me in the not-so-neatest way possible. I rushed into the kitchen and opened the lower drawer beneath my stove to grab the pan with a deep bottom. I turned on the water quickly, adjusting the temperature to lukewarm. I filled the pan, aiming to get it as full as possible. I tried to walk slowly yet hastily without spilling the water; once outside, I made my way to the car windows, pouring the water slowly. Each one dissolved; I was careful, at least, to make sure it wasn’t hot. I used the sleeve of my parker to rub away what remained of the frost. The frost hadn’t wholly dissolved, but it was enough to see. Quickly, I ran back inside to place the pan back on my kitchen bench. Shit, oh shit, oh shit, I’m going to be late! Coming out of my house, I made it to the car, yet I forgot to lock the front door—I pressed my hands against my forehead, feeling the stupidity rise within me. I sloshed through the snow, heading to the front door to lock it and then back to the car door.

I finally entered and opened the white car door, thank God. I backed out of the parking lot and drove toward where I needed to go. As I drove down, the snow fell heavily, and buildings passed by, turning to blurry visions as I drove further into the distance. It took half an hour to get there, but at least I would make it, I hope. I went to the same car park I had parked in yesterday and turned off the engine. As I got out, I saw many buildings covered in snow. I took a second to look into the sky, feeling the tiny snowflakes touch my face. “Beautiful”, I muttered. I held out my hand; I wanted to feel it; to touch the fragile beauty. As one dropped from the sky, it landed perfectly in my hand. I curled my fingers, feeling the flake melt within my grasp. Such beauty yet fragility. I opened my hand to see it dissolved; my eyes softened at the sight. I can understand; if I were to fall freely, speak my mind, and show my true self, even if someone touched me, I’d melt within their grasp.

Suddenly, I heard someone’s footsteps behind me emitted with a laugh. I turned my head to see the on-coming sight of two ballerinas draped in blue and pink leotards topped with jackets. I recognised them from the class I accidentally stumbled into yesterday. I quickly turned my head, shut the car door, and began to walk briskly. I didn’t want to speak with them, not after how I made a fool of myself. My head lowered into the scarf as I looked down, trying to avoid eye contact. Hopefully, they’ll ignore me. I got to the entrance just in time, or so I thought; I could hear them trailing behind. In a panic, I opened the entrance glass door to the dance studio, walking swiftly up the stairs to where I needed to be. Whilst I walked up the stairs, I could hear them speaking; I didn’t tune in, keeping to myself and focusing on getting to the floor I needed to be. My legs picked up the pace as I heard them walking up. As I got to the fifth floor, I peeked over the side of the staircase railing. I could only see the top of their heads, one brunette and the other raven. I sighed deeply to myself; I realized I lied to Mom. I hated doing that, but—it made her happy in ignorance. Out of curiosity, I attempted to speak out to them, to say hello; perhaps then, I could feel proud of myself. “H-h-hi”, I uttered in a whisper. But before I knew it, they were gone; I was too late.

I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t speak. Why was it so damn hard? Why am I so afraid to show them—me? I could feel the tears prickling the corners of my eyes.

I rubbed the corner of my eyes, letting out a sniff. I needed to be strong, at least for the time being. As Mom said, ‘It’s just baby steps; that’s all it takes.’ I took a deep breath in and exhaled; I made my way toward the empty dance studio I was before. It was nice and quiet, peaceful even, I couldn’t hear anyone. I unzipped my parker and took off my shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the windows with blue curtains pulled over them. I wandered over toward the curtains hiding the tall glass windows. My hand reached out, feeling the cotton edge, I slowly pulled the blue curtains to the side. Looking outside, I was in awe; it showed the snowfall. As the tiny flakes gently fell against the window’s glass, I listened, hearing the gentle tapping against the glass. I backed up to the middle of the room, my train of thought departing as I watched the wonderous sight before me.

Suddenly, I heard a stern voice from behind my shoulder. “You're late”.

I quickly turned, only to notice Mr. Oropherion appear out of nowhere. Seriously, was he lurking around the corner watching me this whole time? Are there secret entrances so that he can purposefully remind me?

“I-I, apologies, Mr. Oropherion, I—” Damn it, I can’t even gather my words!

“You’re precisely five minutes past the hour; I presume you have a gift for tardiness”, he spoke coldly.

Is he serious? Why is he treating me as if I’m an hour late? Don’t tell me I’m in trouble for only being five minutes late.

My eyes narrowed, and I could feel my breath slowing down. I didn’t make eye contact with him, but I could hear his footsteps walking from behind me.

“We begin with the simple plie, a simple move you can surely manage,” he said in a clear, deep voice.

My head stooped low; I could only see his feet moving toward the barre attached to the mirrors. I followed suit, raising my left arm and gripping the wooden barre. “Start bending your knees; move your right foot over here” He placed his leg next to the side of my foot, pushing it gently into the correct position. I didn’t pull my leg away, even though I wanted to. As he corrected it, I gazed down, still avoiding eye contact. As I was in position, I closed my eyes, trying to bend my knees and drown out the idea of someone behind me. “No, you’re bending too far”, he softly muttered. As he approached, my breathing grew heavier. He didn't seem to notice, but I felt my chest rise and fall deeply. I froze in place, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want to look at him; I didn’t want to look up. I didn’t want to show him me! I muttered in a whisper, “P-please d-don—”. I felt his hands touch my waist lightly to guide me.

However, I yelled, stumbling back.

I felt like a deer in headlights; my eyes widened as I gasped for air. Mr. Oropherion stared in confusion, more-so, bewilderment; his hands were left hovering. “You do realise my intent was not of ill purpose; do not mistake me for one with a sickening mind”, he spoke cautiously, not wanting to increase the situation.

I covered my face with my hands, feeling foolish. My head stooped low, wanting to hide my tearful gaze. “I’m so sorry. Oh god, I thought I could do this, but I can’t. I’m so afraid, I’m so afraid.”

He approached slowly, maintaining his icy gaze. “Afraid of what?” he questioned in an austere manner.

“Speaking—talking—Showing myself to the world”, my voice cracked.

“I—'m afraid of what they’ll think, of what they’ll see”, I admitted.

He stayed silent, just as I suspected; he wasn’t fazed. I mean, why should he be? After all, I’m just a random person he met a day ago, someone spewing out all this inner turmoil.

I didn’t expect him to respond, and his answer wasn’t what I expected.

“We are not all born with perfection; there are those of us who have been bruised by imperfection. If you dwell too much in fear, it will overtake you, sending afoul things within your mind to come forth and surface. Whether you wish to remain trapped within it or face it to make a difference, is your decision,” he advised.

Even though his words weren’t the most comforting, he held a point. The first time I saw him yesterday, I gazed into the eyes of a man who rekindled a moment I thought was lost. A time I didn’t live in fear, a time I could look into the eyes of another being and speak freely. If I could do it then, I can do it now.

I lifted my hands away from my face, revealing my sorrowful eyes—the eyes of a fearful bird. I turned to his gaze, trying not to look down, showing my irises. His narrowed eyes slightly raised. I stood upright as my breaths slowed. My almond eyes relaxed at the sight of him. Perhaps, if I aim to speak to him again like before, I can train myself to speak to others. I took the time to gather the words I wanted to say. Inhaling slowly, I spoke the words I wanted to say. “M-Mr Oropherion, I d-don’t want to be a-afraid anymore, I w-want to be free”.

His icy eyes lowered. “Well, well, it seems the little bird has learnt to spread her wings once more; however, little bird, you shan’t take flight just yet, for it will take time to heal your wounds, but I shall teach you”.

I inhaled deeply, allowing myself to grab hold of the barre and stand straight. I tried to bend my knees again, yet he wasn’t satisfied. He moved closer to guide me; this time, my head turned to meet his gaze. His hands hovered just where my waist was. I maintained eye contact for a moment before turning to the front as if permitting him. His slender hands touched my waist lightly; I could feel him pushing me up only slightly and then down. “Hold that position; ensure that your knees are bent until they are over your thumbs.” He muttered. I could feel the pressure of trying to keep my balance.

“This next move is a Grande plie. Lower yourself and lift your heels off the ground.” His hands gently pushed me lower on the ground, my heels lifted slightly as I was told. As he lowered me, I glanced into the mirror, falling silent.

I saw my eyes with eyebags beneath them, the same hair falling to my shoulders, and my lips; however, this time, something was different. Something changed. Something made a difference. In the mirror, there were two, two people.

A small smile faintly formed on my lips.

For once, I wasn’t alone.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #the hobbit au #modern thranduil #modern thranduil au #thranduil x you #the hobbit x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader #thranduil oropherion #thranduil fluff #thranduil angst

[dynamites-ao3]

Chanced

Jason Todd x f! Reader

explicit ; 5k words ; canon-compliant pwp

Out of all the purveyors of justice in the city, you have the misfortune of being confronted by the one least likely to let you go in one piece.

Or, Gotham's most expendable goon meets her most unorthodox vigilante. At night, of course.

read here on ao3! or read under the cut.

(a/n: forewarning for nonconsensual elements.)

The weather was turning for the worse these days. Having not expected the chill, you forfeited a padded jacket when you left your apartment earlier this afternoon. It has been hours since then, the steel walls of the warehouse you situated yourself in now providing little comfort against the temperature. You suck in a breath and purse your lips hard, willing yourself not to chatter your teeth.

This isn’t ideal. It’s brutal, actually.

You really hadn’t expected these sorts of errands when you applied for a central intelligence side job at the villain job convention some months ago. On paper, it’d clearly been a desk job for hire, so it’s not fair that you’re standing here now in the cold, fiddling with a USB stick in your jacket pocket like some actually important intermediary.

The pay definitely isn’t good enough for this, at the very least.

Only having had this gig for two or so months, you weren’t in a position to complain. So: here you were. The USB stick had arrived to your postbox two days prior, in a nondescript bubble mailer with no return address. 

Still, you’d known what it was. You’d been given the assignment electronically through an encrypted message by - likely - a higher-up you’ll never met in-person, to pass the drive on to another middle man.

What the drive contained, however, was utterly beyond your payroll. You were too scared to insert it into your own laptop for fear of the consequences. You don’t ask questions either. You could guess, though. Blueprints. Ransomware. A hit. The list goes on.

It didn’t appease you in any real way, to speculate at the contents of the USB stick; though it killed time just fine. You were standing there for about two hours now, and with the fast encroaching nightfall, came the darkness. Even walking in broad daylight in Gotham was at times daunting, so the idea of returning home, guided only by the puttering street lamps, filled you with genuine unease.

Besides that, you have an early start tomorrow for your real day job. You were terribly overqualified for it but until you could line up a better prospect, your hands were tied for now. Hence, your current side gig of running messages for minor city villains.

Your family wouldn’t be too proud but hey - a girl’s gotta eat. And pay rent. And afford the vices that make this chaos all tolerable.

The wind whistles above you, causing the sheets of steel roofing to creak. Naturally, you glance upward at the slivers of the darkening sky that peeks through, offering some semblance of light into the warehouse besides the light that entered through the two wide door ways on opposite walls. 

You stood square in the middle and would regularly pivot your gaze to best see any movement that came from the entrances. Bringing your eyes back down, you pan the walls once more: save for the graffiti and the scrap furniture up against the rusty walls that leaked stuffing, there really wasn’t much scenery to appreciate.

You take your hands out of your jacket, rubbing the palms together. The first hour of waiting had you tense, jumping at every minuscule sound; now, you just wanted someone to show up so you could scurry back home, into the comforting warmth that you came to miss dearly. You were itching for takeout at your favourite cheap eatery but it was probably a better idea to dig into the accumulating leftovers you had in tupperwares back home first.

You ground the rubber front of your shoes into the concrete, bored and tapping away.

“This really isn’t worth it,” you grumble into the air, frowning when you notice the visible puffs of air drawing from your breath. The acoustics were rather nice, to be fair.

“Funny - I was gonna say the same thing.”

Your blood runs cold. Apprehension and relief, wrapped all in one, spikes.

You turn towards the sound in an instant. The glint of red at the entrance to your right, dangerous and foreboding, landing in your peripheral view confirms a fear you hadn’t even truly considered. You feel slightly queasy.

The one standing there was not who you were anticipating, after all. You’re certain he’s not working with your agency.

“You waiting for someone, baby?”

Red Hood steps forward as he asks this, head tilted innocuously to the side. His voice is slightly modulated by the helmet, but not enough to conceal the derisive rumble in his voice. His hands are empty but hover inches away from his holsters which were very much not empty. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You’re definitely not making it home before complete nightfall.

Your lips feel chapped though your palms sweat. Aren’t there like a dozen heroes working in Gotham? What were the chances of Red Hood noticing you? Jesus fucking Christ, you can’t seem to catch a break.

His unexpected presence has you blanching a little. “Uh, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“A friend,” you explain lamely, hoping your timidness masquerades as shyness from meeting a well known hero and not guilt. You were expecting some sunglasses-clad man in an ill-fitting suit and a briefcase to shuffle in, not a hero with broad shoulders who could lay you horizontal in a thousand different ways. You didn’t think you were crucial enough to be tracked or tailed by such a figure.

There’s a beat. Until, “Pretty nasty place to meet a friend.”

Your mind draws blank and you shrug in lieu of responding verbally, sending a sheepish and thin smile. You had a cover story, you know you did, you’d formulated it absent-mindedly while on your feet but under this pressure, under his certain gaze, you can’t recall it.

Was it that you’ve a real penchant for exploration? Or that you’re a cinematographer looking for a shooting location? Something along those lines but the opportunity has since passed.

The USB stick in your pocket feels like lead. Whether by the hand of this vigilante or by your employer, you’re not quite sure how you’re going to make it out alive. This sucks. Perhaps it was naive of you to think you could sidestep all direct confrontations with the police and heroes during your time with a dubious central intelligence agency.

He rests a hand on his utility belt. You gulp as you watch it creep towards the side, down his outer thigh to lightly touch the holstered handgun. He clearly knows why you’re here, loitering in a barren warehouse. Maybe not specifically, but enough to know you’re not here for any respectable reason. 

(To be fair, sneaking about abandoned warehouses as a whole wasn’t very respectable.)

You can already see it play out in your mind’s eye: Red Hood sticking the cold barrel under your chin, digging through your pockets for the USB stick, leaving your dead body for the police to eventually find. Maybe he’d let you escape with your life if you’d handed over the information wilfully, but that might just mean you’d be punished by much more unsavoury methods by your own employer for such a grievous error.

It’s not like you held much loyalty to your job, after all - you just didn’t want to get waterboarded for ten hours if they found out a hero working under Batman swiped confidential information from you. You could barely afford commute and monthly rent, much less the expenses in running off to another part of the country where no one knows your name. You hear Coast City’s weather at this time of year is pleasant though.

At a loss, you blurt aloud to save the situation. “My boyfriend.”

If anything, this outburst gets his attention. And a couple more seconds of you being alive, which is always pretty nice.

His hand lifts away. With no visible facial expressions to go off from, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely caught off-guard or simply obliging you in your little charade for a little longer. You run your tongue over your bottom lip, racking your brain. 

“My boyfriend,” you say, “I mean, I’m supposed to be meeting him, that’s all. I’ll tell him we can’t be here, okay? Sorry.”

He’s only some meters away now - he could overwhelm you in a blink if you tried anything. Him simply tapping you on the head with his fist might even lay you out flat. Still, you take a step back, closer to the other doorway. If you can stall long enough for the second middle man to arrive, that would be all you need to slip away.

“Meeting him here?” he questions. His steps are heavy as he rocks up close. How did he arrive so silently?

“Yeah. We like to - yeah.” We like to… what, exactly? Oh god. You pause to absorb your own words before ducking away, hopefully hiding your own mortification from him.

This is… not great. You’re just babbling now.

You think that perhaps he didn’t hear you this time - or maybe that he was duly horrified - but then a sharp bark of laughter leaves him, a hand coming up to his helmet to where his mouth would be underneath it.

“Shit,” he says, his voice wry. “Who suggested it, you or him?”

You feel faint, barely able to meet his gaze. “Me.” You intended to reply matter of factly, but it came out rising like a question.

“Riiight.”

Your mouth shuts, taken aback at the direction of the conversation led by his obvious disbelief. You know he’s mocking you - stretching out this moot conversation just to humiliate you, some nameless henchman who turned to crime to pay bills. Maybe if you were worth something more, anything, he’d see you as a threat. Evidently not.

Well, you think rather futilely, it was worth a try. At least he could wring some entertainment out of you before he shot you in the head -

“You suggested it? Take a good look at yourself,” he says. His chin juts upward and it’s a rather cocky move, like he’s egging you on to react.

What was that supposed to mean? Though rhetorical, you still find yourself glancing at your attire: it was nondescript all the way down. It’s not like you cared to dress up - who would you even be impressing? Your jacket could benefit from being more insulated though; and you’re surprised he’s trying to poke holes in your cover as opposed to just threatening you with certain death, but you’ll take what you can get.

“Besides,” he continues, “you sounded pretty reluctant earlier.”

Confused, you speak slowly. “Uh. I don’t - listen, I’ll call him right now, and leave. Really. We don’t mean any harm.” You move to take your phone out of your pocket but a levelled glance at you has you pausing.

He swings his head to the side in a lazy shake. Taps his holster. “Hands off.”

“Sorry?” you say.

“I’ll keep you company until he shows, how’s that?” You can nearly envision a smirk under the helmet and something about his goading has your adrenaline pumping. You wonder if you could somehow fish out the USB stick and sneak it somewhere on the dusty concrete or in your tennis shoes. “Maybe me and him can have a little chat too. On why it’s a bad, bad idea to leave your girl alone in a place like this.”

Goddammit. Whoever steps through the doorway next is getting murked right alongside with you apparently.

Shoulders tensing, you weigh your options. You consider weaving further into your cover, saying something like you regularly do this, it’s really not an issue - but for some reason pretending to be a public sex fiend in front of Red Hood was incredibly weird.

“Okay,” you say, helpless. You slip your hands into your jacket pockets, feel for the USB drive, and casually look about the barren warehouse.

A silence ensues. You’re not sure what to do, you’ve never been in this situation before. You don’t know why he’s letting you feign about so long and it scares you.

“You cold?”

“Yeah, a little,” you make out, unsure.

“Might want to move closer to the side. You’re standing in front of the draft.”

You stared at him, though he gave no indication to acknowledge you. “Okay.”

The moment you begin to shift however, stepping towards one of the walls and further into the shadows, you felt wind cutting sharply by your ears as you’re slammed forward, one splayed hand between your shoulder blades. 

A shoulder hits the wall before the rest of your front, knocking the air out of you in a wheeze. Your hands came up to block but the force of his shove still stung your palms. The metal wall rattles thunderously.

You draw your head back in time, but your jaw still gets clipped slightly by the rough wall when you turn your cheek. You might be bleeding. Sharp pain shoots up yours arms as he twists them behind your back and pushes you with his entire body. Panic rises up your throat and a low, pained moan draws out of you.

“Did I hurt you? Sorry, baby, but I have to be thorough.”

A solid steel-toed boot wedges itself between your legs, forcing them apart. Eclipsed by the shadows behind you, Red Hood looms powerfully. What did you do to deserve this treatment?

“It’s a thumb drive, right?” he prompts, cutting to the chase with his helmet right by your hair. “Just tell me where it is and I’ll leave you alone. No harm no foul.”

“I don’t know,” you say, trying to keep your voice even. “Please, you have the wrong person.”

In the scuffle, you dropped the USB and it landed conveniently under the skirt of a sagging couch to your left, only visible at your angle near the wall. Your neck is damp with sweat. If you could just kick it further in, you might be able to convince him you really were innocent after all.

“Uh huh,” he says in the same disbelieving tone as before. Unimpressed and losing patience, he shifts his grip so that he held both your wrists tightly with one hand, pinning you against the wall, so that he might use his free hand to slide up your body.

There is the rustling of fabric as he sticks his hand into your jacket pockets and feels about, before coming up empty. “Hm.” Shifting gears, he turns his attention down to your pants and thumbs your pockets - and you jump when his knuckles graze your butt. He palms your ass instead of filing methodically through your back pockets.

“Still not talking?”

“There’s nothing to say,” you say, getting cut at the end when he abruptly slips under your light jacket and atop your shirt, spreading his fingers on your midsection. You shiver.

Rough, worn leather finds your skin, and in doing so, he hitches your shirt up along with your half-unzipped jacket, introducing it to the cold air. Goosebumps erupt across your arms and you repress a sharp breath. 

What should be a frightening pat-down strangely has a heat forming in the pit of your stomach, turning fiercer when his hand cups you. You finally gasp aloud when he gently squeezes the soft flesh, leather rubbing against your nipple.

Your nipples harden almost immediately to the cold but he still rolls them with the pads of his fingers, almost soothingly. This is definitely not standard procedure in finding an object on your person.

“No bra?” he mutters. As if rendered curious by your lack of chest support, he pushes your shirt up further to gain access to your other breast, also kneading it briefly in one gloved hand. He stops. “Guess you weren’t lying about the public fucking.”

What, can’t a person just go bra-less when they wanted to? When he goes quiet this time, you become aware of your heavy breathing, intensive and trembling. Embarrassment swells in you despite the threat of your livelihood dangling.

“Umm,” you croak, abashed. Then, clearing your throat, “I think you see I don’t have what you’re looking for, so…”

“Ehh,” says Red Hood mildly. “I wouldn’t say that.”

You’re not given time to think.

There’s no resistance from you when he grabs yours hips and slams them flush back against his solid legs. Instinctively, your arms fly out forward to support yourself against the wall as you’re arched back on him. Your mind spins wildly, unable to keep up as gloved fingers press into the fabric of your clothes, into your flesh.

“But you’re a hero,” you say in another abrupt gasp, pitching almost hysterical when you realise what he’s implying.

And he’s sneering, audibly, when he replies, “Aw, baby, it’s so nice you think I’m a hero.”

“I’ll expose you online - I’ll go to the police,” you say. “I’ll fucking do it.”

His grip on you tightens painfully. “Don’t you know who I am? Like anything you say would make waves."

Your eyes widen. You pull your hands from the wall to claw at his wrists, but it’s as futile as  you’d thought it was to be. “Hold on, please,” you insist, switching gears, “I’ll give you what you want, just -”

You could feel him behind you, the firm press against his crotch unavoidable no matter how you struggled. And he ran unbearably hot. “Sure you will.” You heard the click of metal as he unbuckled his utility belt. You’re not surprised it has come to this. You’ve heard of Red Hood and his penchant for the less upstanding methods of pursuing justice. 

This seemed to be in line with his character.

There was nowhere to go. If you could somehow tug yourself out of his grip, there was nothing holding him back from shooting you between the shoulder blades as you made your escape.

You’re not as physically adept (you had a desk job for godssake) so you were subjected to hanging your head low as he tugged your pants down, resting your forearms on the wall. Though he did the bare minimum in unzipping your fly, your pants naturally fell to the dusty ground, exposing the full length of your legs.

He stayed quiet as he hooked his thumb under the band of your panties. With your eyes downcast, you notice that he’d taken the glove off the hand that was currently skimming your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He pushed your panties down and gravity eases it to your knees. His other hand remained securely at your opposite hip.

When his large hand slides to your front, callused fingers coming down between your legs, you can’t help but wonder if this had been his plan the moment he laid eyes on you and decided to fuck around for the fun of it; or if this had been a spur of the moment sort of ordeal, occurring to him when he had you caged against the wall. Did it even matter? You were determined to not react.

He barely even began to trace your slit with his middle and ring finger, barely even sinking the pads of them between your folds when he pauses.

Having nothing else to distract you from the breaching sensation, you double down on it, desperately willing your body to resist. His once cold fingers warm up quickly, regulating with your body heat.

It takes a heartbeat to realise he is speaking to you. “You’re already wet.”

“No,” you reply, hoarse. You don’t know why you do - you shouldn’t be talking back at all - but it looks like you’ve still some sliver of pride.

“Yeah, you are.” He leans forward, firm chest bumping against your back, the thin jacket not much of a barrier at all. The metal helmet brushes against your hair. His fingers sink back into you, deeper this time, and when he withdraws a knuckle’s length, you can feel the wet squelch before you even hear it. You want to cry out but relent in a silent shudder. “Are you wet for me, baby? Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boyfriend.”

“Stop it.”

“You like this shit,” Red Hood states, almost haughty. “It turns you on.”

“No, you’re wrong,” you say with a shake of your head; you try pushing away from him. He hardly heeds you.

“Am I?” His thumb strokes your sensitive clit and you snap your head away from his sight. Tears prick your eyes and there’s something horrible building up inside you that wants him to continue.

His hands were large to begin with but when his fingers finally reenter you, scissoring slowly to test your limits, you can’t help but whimper.

“A pretty thing like you into fucking in dirty places. God, your man’s lucky.”

You’ve an inkling he knows the boyfriend thing is just a cover, but you groan all the same, the noise escaping out a clamped jaw.

The ensuing silence is unbearable, void of anything but the noises coming from your body. A shiver overwhelms you, running fast up your spine when he gives your clit unexpected attention again. You want to cry. You are going to cry; you squeeze your eyes shut.

You clench around Red Hood’s fingers and this does not escape him. As if in response, he squeezes your breast unceremoniously.

“Yeah, yeah, I got you,” Red Hood replies, his voice surprisingly breathless. 

His hand comes away sticky, knuckles glistening, wiping against the skin of your inner thigh. Then, stripping you of your jacket with certain urgency, he spins you around by the shoulder and takes your head in his gloved hand. Unmoving fingers fan across your jaw, thumb on your cheek.

“Open,” he instructs. “And don’t bite.”

Your lips close around his damp fingers, hot tongue running along his callused fingertips. The red mask is indecipherable: you’re unsure whether he’s getting anything out of this or that he simply wants to humiliate you. Maybe a bit of both. In any case, he never turns his head away. Are his eyes closed? Or is he committing this to memory, of your hollowed cheeks and wide, glassy eyes?

You too do not look away, much too scared to glance downward and catch the glimpse of his arousal tenting against dark tacts.

The hand on your chin relaxes when it becomes clear you aren’t about to wriggle free. You could though, and it might even be easy - but your shoes are deadweights and escaping into the Gotham air cannot be much safer.

You clean yourself off his fingers, sucking and licking gingerly until he pulls away.

“Turn around for me.”

When he shimmies his tactical pants down, you don’t see anything but you hear the shuffle of clothes, the tinkling of the belt, and you feel the firm, hot length of his cock abruptly press against your backside. 

He adjusts himself, dragging it down against your slit and rubbing, spreading your wet heat across himself. You don’t know what to think, knowing that he was already fully erect, spilling pre-come at the thought of fucking you.

Against your will, you begin to ache for him, a sharp emptiness balling up in your core that wanted to be filled. Malleable like putty, you think he could slam right into you with no problem. In fact, it would be delicious, the force, the feel of his body boxing you in, taking you without grievance or care.

Surprisingly, he takes his time. You don’t demur: you get what you wish for in due time.

The moan you let out between your teeth when the throbbing head of his cock breaches your entrance was unstoppable. It would be embarrassing had he not also let out a low noise of his own as he stretches you.  “Fuck,” he hisses.

Once he’d positioned himself correctly, he inched into you slow, revelling in the tight heat. You, on the other hand, felt full, his cock satisfying the burning ache you had just moments ago. The slow stretch makes you quiver, keeping a breath in your chest.

The moment of quietude is startled violently when his hand unexpectedly grabs at the base of your nape, not high enough to asphyxiate yet still hard enough to communicate danger.  While fully hilted, he rolls his hips. He drags back briefly before snapping into you with enthusiasm.

You felt as though you’d bite your tongue if you continued to keep your teeth gritted but the moment you relaxed your jaw, a panting moan escaped. “Oh god,” you let out.

His hips slam. “Yeah? That good?”

Your noises apparently encourage him: he fucks you hard, bruising vices on your hips, and gradually you lean further downward, your own hands sliding down the wall for purchase. The abrasive, frigid concrete is rough on your forearms and knees when you get down.

He follows suit, lowering himself to one knee. He at least has the graciousness to pull out momentarily as you got to the floor, his cock bouncing heavily just by your entrance, coarse pubic hair rasping at your skin. When he slides back into your warmth, there’s no resistance whatsoever, your body in complete compliance.

In the corner of your eyes, the kicked USB is just right there, to your left and slightly under the dusty furniture. There is no way he cannot see it from this angle, but he pays it no mind.

“God, what if your man walks in on us, huh?” he grits out, between breaths. “I guess I could let him watch for a bit.”

The shift in position pushes his cock to reach a new depth, pistoning in and out of you with such fervor that you arched your back to keep from being sent forward. You were entirely at his mercy now.

His deep strokes sends zips up your spine. He seems to fill you up completely, as if with every thrust, the head of his cock meets just bare of your cervix. The helmet does a good job at concealing his breathing, but every once in a while, over the visceral wet noises of his cock burying into you and the smack of his balls against your skin, you can faintly hear a low groan.  

When he stills for a split second and breaks the pace, your body moves faster than your mind - and you roll your hips back to hilt yourself like you’re keen.

“Want me to continue?” he asks. “Tell me you want it and I’ll get you off.” A hand slides from gripping your hip to your ass, palming it.

“Ngh,” you return, lamely. It’s not enough of an answer.

“What’s that?” He yanks out fast and it leaves your cunt aching sharply again.

You should jerk a thumb over to the USB drive and tell him to go fuck himself or just shoot you or some combination of this.

“Don’t think so hard, just tell me,��� his voice comes out like a modulated purr, rumbly and arrogant. God, he’s so fucking aggravating, insidious even -

“Yes,” you say in a cry.

The effect is instantaneous. He ruts into you like an animal, like he doesn’t want you to forget the searing effect of his cock as it slides into you. Fast and aggressive in the way only a man of his athleticism can be, you are left to lower your head to the floor and raise your hips high for him to violate, biting your bottom lip to keep from drooling. The ruthless barrelling as his mode of acquainting with your insides is thrilling; he wants to coax you to scream.

Eerily enough, you and him nearly come at the same time. Unable to stop your tensing, your hands ball up into fists and you give into your feelings: your insides flutter, the muscles contracting and consequently squeezing his cock. His pace slows dramatically as if to savour the vibrations, drawing out into long and deep strokes. 

The build up falls from a terrible crescendo and your knees have liquified; he keeps you upright.

“Fuck,” he breathes.

He hardly gives you a heads up when he comes, which is more than you can say, but his fingers dig as a forewarning when he bottoms out. It’s likely your orgasm brings his over the finish line.

His cock, heavy and engorged, twitches twice and spurts a hot, wet mess deep inside you. You imagine his expression: his eyes rolling back or maybe clamping shut; his teeth gritted or slightly parted in a pant. You don’t even have time to protest. He strokes your skin as he does, almost affectionately.

As always, your body betrays you: you squeeze without thinking just as he backs up like you want to keep him there. You feel insatiable: you want him in you all the time. He chuckles faintly.

He gives short thrusts as if to wring out the very last drops and you try not to think about the warmth filling your core now, the presence of him imprinted inside your body. It makes you flush. Were you insane for enjoying this?

He doesn’t seem to be going through the same mental turmoil.

The very moment he withdraws his softening cock from your body, thick come drips, sliding hotly down your inner thigh. His absence leaves your entrance pulsing, effectively squeezing out more of the mess.

You think that’s the end of it and go to stand upright when you feel his hand grip an ass cheek and without warning, spread your entrance further open with a thumb. “Aagh,” you can’t help but whine at the feel of come spilling out.

It didn’t help that he was most definitely watching the whole affair of his come dripping from your pleasantly sore entrance. A sizeable glob splatters on the concrete between your knees, just missing the pants around your ankles.

“You with me?” Red Hood hums.

You nod. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Sweet,” he says, all casual. “So. What’re we thinking for dinner.”

Like that, the curtains close.

You sigh petulantly, reaching back and slapping his hand away. This is no place to rest in a post-orgasm haze anyway. Pulling yourself upright and yank your pants back up your waist. Hands on your waist, you twist about violently. A very satisfying crack resounds from your body.

“I dunno,” you say, pinching your jacket up and dusting it. “Are we going to your place or mine? Also, god, you talk a lot.”

“Hey, you said you wanted realism. I gave it to you,” he says, getting to his feet. Jason unclasps his helmet from the back, yanking it off in one go. “Anticipation helps the scene.” He shakes his head, unsticking sweaty bangs from his forehead before pushing it all back with his hand.

“Three hours,” you say for emphasis, though there’s no bite. “It’s cold.”

You do appreciate Jason for obliging you in this scenario. When you first suggested it in a sort of half-joking manner, you certainly hadn’t expected Jason to take you seriously. 

Nor had you expected him to whip out his acting chops like this. It was all rather impressive and seeing him with you now at the end of the scene, cheeks flushed and orgasm attained, you couldn’t really be mad.

“What was in this thing anyway? Looks ancient.” He steps away to lean over, picking the grimy thumb drive from the ground.

“Ehh. Probably used it to transfer some files when I bought my laptop.” You purse your lips. “Just last year, I guess.”

“Ugh, so boring. Wanna film something and stick it in this?”

A scoff leaves you, nabbing the small drive from him and shoving it away. “Dinner first,” you say.

Pivoting around, you make for the exit. Jason stops you, wrangling you with a hand on your back, and pushes you back towards him. Dipping forward, Jason captures your mouth in a languid kiss. It is like all the aggression has dissipated, leaving behind the dregs of something more substantial. Warmly, you lean into him. His eyes glitter when you pull apart.

“Your boyfriend’s pretty nice,” he says. “Wouldn't you say?”

“Yeah. I guess he is.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagines #dc x reader #dynamites writes #WHEW i'm back baby *crickets chirp*

[b-dubs-valdubs]

ethubs, cooking for a sick friend even though they're bad at it!

hi!!! whipped this up for you, i had way too much fun with this so thank you for requesting !!

(ps. one of the flipping things that happens to bdubs has also happened to me: have fun guessing which one jdjdkf)

enjoy!!!

——

Etho sniffed, squeezing his eyes shut; trying to calm the pounding headache behind his eyes. Great. He was sick. Bdubs was so going to make fun of him for this.

As if on cue, the man himself came waltzing into Etho’s room in the monoloth. He was, Efho noticed, still wearing his morning bunny slippers, and carrying a wobbling tray of tea.

“Here, take this,” Bdubs handed Etho the mug, smiling gently. “Made it fresh just now. Don’t say i never do nothin’ for ya…”

Etho sipped it gently, movements small. He swallowed, stifling a cough. “Mmmh, it’s… good. Thank you ‘dubs”

Etho winced. His voice had come out a lot more croaky than he would have liked.

Bdubs had also seemed to notice. His eyes widened — all but slamming his own mug onto the table.

“You’re sick?” he asked, incredulous — yet a hint of triumph sneaking into his tone.

Etho was too groggy to put up a veneer of pride. He nodded vaguely.

Bdubs cackled slightly. “Etho — the Etho — sick?!” He chortled; way too proud of himself.

Etho scowled at him. Sheepishly, Bdubs ceased his laughter. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be glad about that. You just rub it in my face all the time.”

Etho rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Can you make me breakfast…?” he requested, almost pitifully, “It’s an awful long staircase to climb for-“ (cough for emphasis) “- such a sick person…”

“Oh, you little fragile flowe-“

“Hey, you’re the fragile flower, you jerk!”

Bdubs raised his brows. “Oh, so you don’t need my help then?”

Etho sighed. “Ok fine… I’ll have some pancakes.”

“I didn’t hear a please?”

Oh he looked too pleased with himself.

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Bdubs cackled. “Okayokayokay… the finest pancakes coming right up!”

——

They did not, in fact, come right up.

Everything was going downhill.

It was stupid anyway, Bdubs thought to himself, accidentally smearing more flour onto his forehead as he wiped his brow.

He was almost out of pancake ingredients, having used most of the things in the monolith kitchen just for this.

Why couldn’t Etho have wanted something easy to cook — like — a bowl of cereal?

Huffing, Bdubs turned his attention to the hob and stared down the pancake sizzling there. He would not be defeated by some half-fried dessert!

Seizing the handle, he flipped the pancake into the air. It flipped gloriously, acrobatically even—

Before getting stuck on the ceiling.

Bdubs muffled a frustrated scream; glancing despairingly at the gradually depleting batter. He would have enough for two… at most.

He had to make these count.

Flipping the second pancake, he made sure not to propel it as high as the first. Although, it was more of a slide than a flip, as it tumbled off the edge of the pan and scewered itself on the dial of the oven; ripping in half and splatting onto the floor, pathetically.

“How does that even HAPPEN????”

Deep breaths Bdubs… in and out…

The final one had to be perfect. If he could bring one really great pancake to Etho… today would be a success.

He prepared it dillegently; making sure the batter formed the pancake in a perfect circle. When it came time to flip, he steeled himself, practicing the motions to himself before grabbing onto the handle.

“Not too much, so it lands up on the ceiling; not too little so it dies on the floor.” he repeated to himself constantly.

He flipped.

With the perfect force to take the pan clean off the handle.

Bdubs screamed a “No!” to give Darth Vader a run for his money, collapsing onto the kitchen countertop and sinking onto the floor in a fit of despair. He wanted to get the pancakes right for Etho! He aanted Etho to taste them and be wowed by his cooking prowess! He wanted Etho to tell him he loves the pancakes he had lovingly prepared for him!

Many wasted eggs later, here he was.

But — was it always so hot in here?

SHIT-

He lept to his feet and fanned the small fire with a discarded tea towel, as if he needed any more stress. He had knocked over some tissues near the flame!

He wasn’t panicking for a while before, luckily, the sprinklers came to his rescue.

Drenching him in the process.

He sighed heavily, having turned off the hob, and all was blissfully quiet around him. It was too early for this — he would have no compunctions with crawling back into his bed and starting the day over.

But, he still had to make breakfast for Etho. As the ceiling pancake falling onto his head so graciously reminded him.

——

“Breakfast is served,” Bdubs muttered grumpily.

Etho peered up at him, snickering a little to himself at Bdubs’s wet cat-esque complexion. “What happened to you?”

Bdubs glared at him, handing over the tray without a word. Etho inspected it, humming.

“Bdubs, this is cereal.”

#mossy writing #new tag!!!! woohoo #ethubs #can be read as platonic or romantic #i dont mind it being tagged as ship #bdubs #bdoubleo100 #ethoslab #hermitcraft fanfic

[olivyh]

@cyra-steele Birthday request part 2!!!! Sorry it took so long ;;; I was struggling to get though the second half bc the end of the semesters coming up! On the bright side, I don't have any tests. On the downside, all my tests were replaced with essays :(

Jamil: 

It was a quiet Sunday night in the Scarabia dorm, and Jamil was doing as he always did- clean up after the most recent party, plan and prep meals for the next week. He had just returned from Sam's shop, sighing as he rests the bags of groceries against the ground, groaning softly and rubbing the indents left on his arms from the handles. The dorm was silent for once, with many of the residents either studying in the common room or asleep in one of their rooms. He could make out the faint sound of quiet chatter if he really tried. 

He stands and stretches, looking out the kitchen window at the vast desert that surrounded the dorm. In the light of the moonlight, the sand seemed to glimmer- cast in shadows that stretched and pulled across the terrain. The usual chill of the night had just begun to creep into the dorm, cooling the counters that the boy rested his hands on. He shakes his head, tying his hair up into a bun and pinning his hangs out of the way as he pulled out his phone, scrolling through the vast list of his favorite songs. He connects his headphones and allows the steady rhythm to calm his still buzzing nerves after the long and stressful day he just had, mentally preparing himself for the next week. 

Slowly, he begins to sway his hips and jump to the music as he slices vegetables, smiling softly to himself as he places the knife down and uses his fingertips as drumsticks, bouncing on his heels and sliding across the floor to prepare the spices. 

He bobs his head and moves his shoulders, feeling all previous tension leave his body as he hums along to the song, occasionally mumbling out the rap portion that he'd memorized quietly. He can barely make out the sounds of the bells in his hair jingling, but he doesn't care as he hops over to the other side of the counter, preparing more of the vegetables and throwing them in the pan and adding the sauce. 

He continues to dance energetically as he flicks the spoon dramatically, chuckling to himself as he concludes the song and his impromptu dance with a spin and-

He makes eye contact with the prefect, who was leaning against the doorway with an amused grin. He takes a deep breath, halting his movements completely and shakily bringing his headphones to hang loosely around his neck. 

"What are you doing here?" Jamil deadpans, face more serious than you had ever seen it despite the music still blaring through his headphones. He hopes you don't notice how his hands quiver in embarrassment or how much his breathing has picked up. 

You laugh. "Why are you so serious all of a sudden?" He huffs at that, flicking his spoon- and some sauce- in your direction. 

"I asked you first."

"I wanted to help you."

He swears his heart skips a beat when his head jolts back to you, eyes wide as he bites his lip, trying to put on his nonchalant facade once more as hr shrugs. 

"As you wish," Jamil looks over again, dark eyes narrowed. "But I do take my work seriously, I'll have you know."

"I know."

"So you better not mess up."

"I know!" You groan and shuffle beside him. "Besides, how can I mess up with the best teacher around?"

Jamil swears you're going to be the death of him someday. 

Kalim:

He couldn't help it! He swears!

How could he possibly look away when the cafeteria is so busy but he can only seem to focus his attention on you. Jamil's voice goes over his head as he lays his chin on his folded arms as they rest on the wooden table, snowy white eyelashes fluttering closed as he watches you laugh with the first years, lightly punching Ace's arm at something he'd said.

He sighs happily as his eyes scan over your features. Everything about you was perfect- the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled or the way your shoulders shook when you laughed, not to mention the way your hands would idly play with your sleeves or Grim's collar when they weren't holding a fork or a piece of bread. Even the way you ate the messy school lunch seemed elegant to the boy, who smiles softly. 

"Kalim!" 

"Yeah?" Jamil sighs, following his gaze. "You have a quiz next period. I took it this morning and it's no easy feat! Stop oogling at the prefect!" 

"Mhm..." He smiles again, daydreaming about how it would feel for your fingers to play with his hair while he laid in your lap and gazed up at you, how soft your hands would be in his. 

He would trade every treasure in the world just to give you a kiss. 

"You're not even listening..." Jamil sighs. "If they helped, would you listen?"

"Absolutely!"

"You're hopeless!" The boy retorts in annoyance, rolling his eyes before standing and leaving the cafeteria. Many of the other students have started to clear out as well, with many of the tables around him being vacant as he watched your friends leave. His heart fluttered as his mind continued to make out fantasies of what it would be like to hold you, if you were to fall asleep on his shoulder, holding his face in your hands and peppering it with kisses...

"Kalim?"

"Yes!" He shoots up, looking up at you and trying to hide the way his suddenly sweaty hands shook under the table, slightly embarrassed at being caught. His mind flashes to the thought that he could just ask you out here. None of your friends were around, and at this point it was just you two in the cafeteria. 

"Are you okay?" You ask. "You barely ate..."

This was it. He was going to ask you on a date. He wondered what it was going to be... a party? A parade? Maybe fireworks? Or...

"Would you like to go on a carpet ride with me tonight?" He blurts suddenly, voice ouder than he'd hoped with a slight quiver that he hopes you don't notice. He feels his face heat up as he realizes that, in his excitement, he'd stood and leaned closer to you. You grin and nod, which makes his heart beat faster than he could have ever imagined. 

"Of course! What's the occasion?" 

He shrugs, cleaning up his notes and walking alongside you with a pep to his step. "You'll see! It'll be great, I promise!"

sebek 

"Damn it!" The half fae mutters in annoyance. He was currently in Ramshackle in the early hours of the morning, made apparent by the fog that surrounded the dorm and the dew that still clung to the eaves outside. He stands in the bathroom, bottle of hair gel resting on the counter and hands slick with the substance as he repeatedly pushes his bangs out of his eyes, annoyance rising in his chest as, once more, a single strand of hair falls into his eyes.

For a moment, he seriously considers using one of the prefect's pairs of rusty scissors to cut it loose, hastily deciding against it when he realizes that it would end up looking even worse. 

Even so, he continues to run his gel-coated hands through his lime-green hair, biting back an annoyed groan when the pattern continues. 

"Are you kidding me?!" 

"What's wrong?" He jumps upon hearing your sleepy voice, and turns to see you leaning against the doorway, baggy clothes still crumbled and face still painted in drowsiness. "Awake already?"

"I'm a knight," He frowns, going back to the mirror and trying to hide the flustered blush that crawls up his neck. "I have to be up early every day."

"Sounds tiring," You move and sit on the edge of the bathtub. 

"Do you wish to use the bathroom?" He sees your reflection shake it's head and he sighs. 

"What's wrong with it?" You hum. "Your hair looks fine to me..."

"It's not all staying." He turns and sees you make a grabby motion, pouring some gel on your hands as you stand and motion for him to lean his head down. He tries to bite back an embarrassed retort as he feels your fingers gently glide through the strands, slow as though you were painting a portrait and not helping him slick back his hair. His stomach twists as he shoots up, nodding in your direction. He knows his face is bright red, and he knows that you can see the way his whole body trembles as his gloved hands stick to his side as though he were a wooden doll. 

"Thank you," He shouts suddenly, making you jolt at the change in volume. "I'll be off. Good day."

He couldn't run away from Ramshackle fast enough, hoping that it was the adrenaline making his heart spasm and not the sudden wave of emotion he was subjected to. 

Silver:

Silver hisses as he continues to wrap up his bandaged arm with gauze. It had been some times since he'd last sparred with his father, and he seemed to somehow forget that the fae never held back, even against his own son. As a result, Silver was left with a long scrape along his bicep, one that his father profusely apologized for before lecturing him on the things he could have changed about his form or his concentration. 

His hand slips and he spills the antiseptic all over the tile of the bathroom floor. He curses to himself and picks it up. 

"Is everything alright?" Silver stares up at you, nodding. 

"Y-yes, of course." 

"What happened?" You crouch beside him, gently guiding him to stand as you clean the antiseptic. 

"It spilled," You frown at his vague and basic answers and roll your eyes playfully. 

"Duh," You chuckle under your breath and the melody is enough to make Silver's brain pause in it's tracks, his wound suddenly hurting less and his head feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton candy. "I mean... with your training."

"Oh," He mumbles under his breath. "Lilia likes to push me to my limits." You hum and reach for the gauze, wrapping the rest of his arm gently and hushing him when he hisses in pain. 

"Is it that bad?" He shakes his head, staring down at you. He stares at you often, but he rarely gets this close, and a foreign feeling blooms in his chest. It's warm, and spreads throughout his entire body like vines climbing throughout his entire body, constricting his heart and lungs. He feels his face heat up as your hand starts to pull away. In his excitement, he grabs your wrist and pulls. 

"Let's stay like this..." He practically whispers, ears burning as his hands shake. "Please."

"Of course."

#twisted wonderland jamil #twst #twst jamil #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst kalim #jamil viper #kalim al asim #sebek zigvolt #twst silver #silver vanrogue #twst fanfic

[summerlycoris]

I've got an idea for what happened to Bonnie, but I'll admit it's just speculation at this point.

From the damage seen to his body in his Bonnie Bowl room, he has claw marks along his chest. He has also been almost entirely dismantled. His left arm and leg are cut in two places- at the torso, and at the elbow/ knee joints. His right leg is cut at the knee. And his waist is cut clean through, making him into a segmented display. His head is also crushed and damaged- there's a broken bowling bowl nearby, to imply that's what caused it.

Notarealname Notatall has already said this in her video, which I believe- Monty did it by swiping at Bonnie's chest, and accidentally pushing him off the catwalks. The damage to his head and waist is consistent with getting knocked off the catwalks, because this is similar damage Monty takes when he falls from there. The broken limbs are also realistic- in a dufflebag message, it's said that Monty got knocked off the catwalks by the hurricane bucket, and broke both his legs. If he fell from the catwalks, and hit other parts of the catwalks/ Monty golf scenery on the way down, this damage is possible.

That's not speculatory- that's fairly set in stone unless Steel Wool wants to chuck a curvebowlingball at us- but this next bit is.

Why did Monty go for Bonnie's chest? I think because Bonnie had been helping a missing kid to try and get away from the pizzaplex, and Monty saw the kid climb into Bonnie's stomach hatch. We know Gregory isn't the only person to go missing at the Pizzaplex.

And Bonnie's movements through the night he goes missing, as seen in the Dufflebags, is quite peculiar. It's actually similar to the route Gregory takes through the Pizzaplex, if you chose the prize counter and disassemble Monty routes. Bonnie and Missing Kid just get to skip Daycare, White Woman Jumpscare, and Showtime.

"MISSING

SECURITY REPORT - 12:24AM - Bonnie is seen leaving his green room in Rockstar Row heading East towards the atrium. 2:40AM - Bonnie enters the East Arcade. 4:12AM - Bonnie enters Monty Golf."

It's a little confusing because The Prize Counter isn't referred to as being part of the East Arcade- the East Arcade itself is signposted as Superstar-Cade- but you have to go through the East Arcade to get to the Prize Counter. The West Arcade is the one where DJ Music Man is. So we know he went somewhere where, in theory at least, you could leave the Pizzaplex. But it doesn't pan out.

Bonnie may have taken the kid to Monty Golf next to pick up a camera- like we do with Gregory. But something went wrong. They went up to the catwalks instead of leaving Monty Golf. While we don't see it in game, there's surely got to be a way up there regularly that doesn't involve going through a vent. And there's a level 10 security door near Monty Golf that could lead to stairs up to the Gondola ride. Maybe the security alert going off spooked them, and they hurried up to the Catwalks, because staff bots cant go there? Because most animatronics don't go there?

Though, this idea has holes that I can't answer. Like does Bonnie even have a stomach hatch? He kinda looks like he could- pretty empty in there past the scratch marks. It looks like him and Monty are made using similar casing for their bodies, if so both him and Monty could have had stomach hatches.

Why would Bonnie not be infected by the glitchtrap virus here? I dunno man. Safemode like Freddy? Maybe it's just not in every animatronic just yet.

If this happened, what happened to the kid? We don't know. There's a dufflebag about Vanessa complaining about a prank call from the Pizzaplex to the police, that she then turned away. This "Prank call" could be from the missing kid. It could also be from a victim of the All Staff Meeting, or even one of the therapists taken to the Pizzaplex for disposal by GGY. so that's not proof- more speculation.

But this does explain why Monty did it- he went up to the catwalks after an alarm sounded in Monty Golf. He saw the kid panic and climb back in to Bonnie. And he got angry. He swiped at Bonnie for working against him and the others, causing Bonnie's fall and destruction. The kid may have survived the fall. Maybe. But probably didn't get very far before Monty or Vanny finished them off.

Because I still don't believe Monty was jealous of the band and wanted in any way how. Otherwise, why would he skip performances to hang out at the catwalks? Why would he trash his room, where he would presumably get photos with the kids, instead of basking in the glory of being a star?

Anyway, afterwards Vanny and Monty work together to get the destructed remains of Bonnie to Bonnie Bowl, hiding him in his room there. Vanessa scrubs the cameras of taking Bonnie back to his room, and logs that he disappeared in Monty Golf. Because no one is looking for him in there, his remains go undiscovered. But they set up a rudimentary mock up to explain what happened just in case- the shattered bowling bowl nearby, to try and make it look like Bonnie had an accident.

More speculation- But I think the Missing Kid could be Tony Becker. Dude gets asked by GGY to go to the Pizzaplex with him, to "Meet his friends". The same "friends" who probably bumped off the therapists. (The animatronics, under Glitchtraps control.)

tl;dr- I think Bonnie got dismantled like Freddy did in the Vanny ending- he was seen working with a kid, and was attacked for it. But while Freddy got pulled apart by staff bots, Bonnie got swiped by Monty, knocked over the sides of the catwalks, and sustained irreparable damage from that.

#five nights at freddys #security breach #sb ruin spoilers #for the picture at the very start of this novel really

[sculptorofcrimson]

[Banging pots and pans together] Where's valdor you goddamn furry?

[/affectionate, For legal reasons, that was a joke, I am on very good terms with the furry community.]

(〃￣ω￣〃)ゞ ✰✰ Squigaggle Squigurg, you have now a blurb ✰✰

~~~~~

Ten Thousand Flowers

"Sequel" of Pavilion of Golden Flowers

Recap: Pavilion of Golden Flowers - A Warhammer retelling of the Drunken Concubine opera.

Relations: Valdor/Emperor(one-sided), Emperor/Ra ~~~~

Of course. Of course His eye had strayed from him to Ra.

The Captain-General watches, muscled arms crossed over his chest, with only a glimmer of desire in his eye. The Emperor’s hand on Ra’s back slips lower, circling his tailbone, and the smaller Custodian’s laugh does not pass unnoticed by his first brother. A muscle clenches in his jawline, the serfs attending him quickly back off in anticipation of some kind of wrath before warily returning to his side. One cautiously sets aside his pauldrons, unarmoring him in silence now, even as the Custodian’s gaze never strays from his lord and Ra.

The Emperor's hand was boldly caressing Ra now. He says something, and Ra stares back at him, wide-eyed, a surprised jolt passing over his frame. Of course, Valdor notes, of course. He was not so surprised as to find the Emperor’s hand beneath the hemline of Ra’s robes now, gently pulling against the silk to trace over his thighs. The Custodian’s response was lost to him, although Valdor could have certainly eavesdropped had he deigned to. 

Ra’s laughter echoes through the armory, tremors rumbling through his half-unarmored form. 

The Emperor was smiling indulgently as He withdrew His grasp from His now-favorite concubine. They speak something rapid, the Emperor extends one hand in some kind of offering. Ra nods as he responds, Valdor not even consciously tracking their movements yet still memorizing each of them with the same, perfect recall that had been beaten into them. A serf yanks off one of his gauntlets with more disrespect than Valdor would have normally tolerated, the impudent servant tapping lightly at the exposed bodysuit beneath as if trying to garner his attention. Valdor hardly even noticed, in fact, the serf wondered if he cared at all. When your master’s favor had strayed so utterly to another, there was little room for doubt.

Surely there was no reason to fear impropriety, was there? Surely, when He reigned over all beneath His regard, all of the Ten Thousand belonged to Him, in mind, body and soul. It would have been impolite to challenge Him in His own lair. 

Valdor turned his gaze away as Ra joins Him, now completely unarmored, his silken robes contrasting harshly against the Emperor’s tanned skin as He wrapped one massive hand around Ra’s upper arm and lead him away, their movements synchronized in the way only lovers - and masters - could.

Of course.

Of course His eye had strayed from him to Ra.

The Custodian shakes his head once, and turns to gesture at the serfs. Now completely unarmored, he rises with his usual grace, somehow tempered with some kind of frosty steel, as cold as the peaks of the Himalayas. Wine. Bring him wine. His master won’t accompany him to drink. Of course, his master won't be accompanying him tonight, but that is of no matter. The will to be envious, to even be pained by such callous rejection, had been beaten away. So much like a toy that no longer amused Him and thus had been discarded for prettier, shinier conquests, yet without even the will to spurn Him for such betrayal. 

Wordlessly, Valdor commands. The serfs gaze upon his unarmored form, observing the tense bitterly cold demeanor in the lines of his muscles, and that frosty, yet somehow wounded glare he brings upon each of them when they hesitate. They nod once and bow before scattering for their tasks.

The Unification Wars used to frown upon indulgence. There was no time, no respite, only the bitter cold gnawing at the marrow of their bones, only the triumphant wind howling a bitter end in the stones. Things are a little different now. Things are a little different, when the Emperor has a little time to spare for His playthings. It is harder to ignore the weight of His eye when it was sometimes - quite literally - burning upon your skin. He is still the Emperor’s best servant, His spear and Captain-General, but he is no longer the favorite, the precious one. As the serf sneaks a quick glance at those cold eyes, he realizes this as firmly - and as surely - as the Captain-General himself.

The eye of the Emperor had strayed from him to Ra. 

Of course. 

Of course he had. 

Hastily, the serf bows his head before that cold, resigned glare. Then, he turns, moving with haste as to not disturb the Custodian still staring so intensely at the pair, and goes to fetch the Captain-General some wine.

#valdor x emperor #emperor x ra #emperor of mankind #constantin valdor #warhammer 40000 #wh40k #wh40k writing prompts #wh40k writing requests #sculptor of crimson #adeptus custodes #drabble #this fox condones dropkicking valdor out of a third story window #master/servant #drunken concubine #warhammer retelling #here's the damn unfeeling banana #you're welcome from the fox

[gracehosborn]

Heads Up Seven Up Tag

Thank you to the amazing @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tag!

Rules: Share the last seven lines you wrote in any WIP.

Here are the last seven lines I wrote for The American Icarus: Volume I. TW: mentioning of blood.

Exhaling with newfound annoyance, I pressed my arm into the folds of the bed so that I might move, feeling a sharp yet quick sting upon the deformed, slightly risen, vein upon my upper left arm whereupon a large scar had formed which had never seen proper healing. Although not nearly as powerful as the causality by the might of the pronged, cold steel lancet stabbed into my flesh, and the fountain of blood which poured with a throb into a small pan all in want to balance my humors many years last, the irritation tempted my memory—burning with such power that I flinched. Taking a slow, shaken breath, I stared upward once more, repeating the action in pushing away the reminder as I was left to take note of the little differentiations between the dark spaces of the moon’s distorted light. Despite my efforts, the pressing silence and slithering discomfort kept fast, tempting faint strokes of other events I had likened to forget; their design to be that of barring me from sleep. Why this was so, I could not discern in the daze of tiredness which forced my eyelids to close and open with slow, heavy movements. The confusion of the matter ignited further the annoyance which had originally clung to me, causing the thin sheet of linen covering my loose nightshirt to gain an almost overpowering awareness. Irony striking my chest with a warm touch, I turned upon my right side—letting a moan of desperation escape me as my face found my pillow.

Tagging with no pressure: @sunset-a-story @blind-the-winds @queerfox-tales @therevwriter

#writing tag games #tag games #the american icarus #TAI #writing snippets #writing excerpts #writers on tumblr #amwriting #historical fiction #writing community

[sukacheri]

2wink Week 2023 Day 1 - Nostalgic

A Quarter Past 2am [AO3 or keep reading below]

2wink | one-shot | 1.4k words

Though the size of his palm had changed, the portion of chocolate chips stayed the same. As if what Hinata had used as a child, with palms barely big enough to grab any sort of meaningful handful, was Yuuta’s preferred amount of chocolate. Or maybe it was what nostalgia tasted like. Or: Hinata makes Yuuta hot chocolate when he can't sleep.

a/n: yayy first 2wink week post!! this is an old fic i posted a few months ago but since the day 1 theme was nostalgia i feel morally obligated to post this here. i hope you enjoy!

@2winkweek

It was 2am.

Hinata didn’t fall neatly into being a night owl or early bird by any means, but this was definitely too late for him to be up. It would be one thing if he had just woken up from sleep and decided to get a glass of water before going back to bed, then it wasn’t “staying up”, it was an interruption to his sleep. If anyone walked into the kitchen at this hour and saw him, that was what he'd tell them. If there were even other people awake right now.

No, there definitely were. There were plenty of weirdos living at Ensemble Square.

Also, he like, totally did not snoop on his phone to see that Yuuta was active on social media right now. That would totally be violating Yuuta’s privacy. But it wasn’t like he was hiding it. Okay, well, he wasn’t posting anything, but it said his status was active! So, if he really didn’t want people to know then he’d turn that setting off.

It didn’t really matter.

Hinata already had a saucepan warming up on the stove. Milk and cocoa powder set to the side, waiting on standby to be added in. 

Yuuta’s lack of sweet tooth normally deterred Hinata from making something like this, and he knows countless spicy alternative recipes for other meals. He had even gone out searching for spicy hot chocolate recipes and begging Niki to teach him how to make them properly because while he had mastered the art of adjusting sweetness, mixing and matching spice wasn’t as intuitive to him.

And even with the special training, his spice palette was unsatisfactory, but it was probably better that way. Yuuta would hate it if Hinata was invading on one of his key personality traits. Even if, no, especially, if it were for Yuuta’s sake Hinata did so.

Hinata hovered his hand over the pan, heat seeping through his fingers, and decided it was warm enough now. He poured the milk in first, the white 2% of it all covering the bottom of the steel pan, with the cocoa mix following right after. He whisked them together with a practiced hand, muscle memory that knew a repetitive whisking motion used in most cooking, yes, but also this particular movement for this particular hot chocolate.

Everything about this recipe, routine, ritual, was ingrained in him, from his fingertips that spread the mix, to his arms that whisked the pan, and to his feet that had taken him out here to the kitchen in the first place. It might as well be a piece of his soul. 

It was pointless to wonder how much of his soul is dedicated to Yuuta. Sure, he tried nowadays to be himself, Hinata Aoi, through and through. Whoever that was.

The more thought-provoking and less existentially-dreading exercise was to scour through the pieces like a web and decide which ones didn't end up linking back to Yuuta in some way. 

Most of his hobbies started from a need to improve himself, not for his own personal self-satisfaction, but for Yuuta’s sake. Gardening was his one non-performance based hobby, but even that started as a way to save on groceries at home and grow the peppers his brother liked that hurt his wallet just a bit too much. 

A drop of milk splashed out onto Hinata’s arm as he whisked, drawing his eyes back into focus on the warm brown color [verb]ing in the saucepan now. He set the whisk down, feeling the beginning of a cramp in his hand but ignored it to reach across the counter and grab the sugar. He didn’t need to use a lot; Yuuta usually liked something a little sweet when he couldn’t sleep.

It took only a few seconds for the sugar to dissolve and for Hinata to grab a small handful of chocolate chips to scatter in the pan like saccharine hail. He started whisking again and tried not to dwell too much on the memory of a much younger him, one before all the growth spurts and near-constant sibling bickering, one that had his little brother fully rely on him. Though the size of his palm had changed, the portion of chocolate chips stayed the same. As if what Hinata had used as a child, with palms barely big enough to grab any sort of meaningful handful, was Yuuta’s preferred amount of chocolate. Or maybe it was what nostalgia tasted like for him.

Some things change and grow, like how Hinata wasn’t a child anymore, but other things remained the same, routines built into the soul like a code for design.

It was a quarter past 2am, and while the oncoming footsteps were soft, trained to be light on the floor at night, they were wearing slippers, not socks. This was a public building after all, and the twins weren’t living at home anymore.

Yuuta rounded the corner into the kitchen, and Hinata spied the stray hairs sticking up at the back of his head from tossing and turning in bed. The hunch of his shoulders could be mistaken as stress to anyone else that saw them, but Hinata knew his brother’s heart and behaviors, and not that he carried stress but a chill. It took a lot for him to finally drag himself up and out of bed, away from the warmth and comfort of his blankets.

It meant he gave up on sleep and decided to make the chilly trek without a blanket to the kitchen. And like any regular person, he would get a nice glass of water and then try once again to get some shut eye.

Being “overbearing” was a trait Hinata has yet to fully kick, and who says he should be rid of it completely anyways? He should always be able to spoil his brother.

Knowing Yuuta’s ‘I can’t fall asleep even after looking at my phone for several hours and switching which side I lay on so that my phone can keep charging because it almost died’ ritual is hardly a facet of being overbearing. They did share a room for years.

Hinata’s mouth twitched like he wanted to greet Yuuta, but maybe his brother’s eyes do look a bit more tired than usual (or maybe it was just eye strain. These kids on their dang phones..!). He kept quiet instead, and let Yuuta be the one to initiate any talking.

Yuuta paused when his eyes met Hinata’s, and he can see how Yuuta’s mouth is already forming words of interrogation for him. It took a moment for him to settle on his words, and they were less questioning than Hinata would’ve thought.

“... You don’t drink hot chocolate this late,” Yuuta said, walking to join Hinata at the counter.

Hinata didn’t respond, instead looking at the warm, light brown color of the hot chocolate in the pan. The perfect color. He turned the heat off for the stove with a click of the knob, and when he turned to grab a mug, Yuuta’s already beaten him to it.

Hinata accepts the two white mugs, the Cosmic Productions logo printed on the sides of each, that Yuuta hands him. He didn’t bother saying anything right now; if Yuuta wanted to press Hinata on why he was up so late then he could do that, but Hinata wasn’t going to open that can of worms if he didn't have to.

He poured the hot chocolate into both their mugs, steam rising as the liquid filled them. They would probably get stained brown, but that was on CosPro for deciding to get plain old white instead of a nice sleek black or something. Maybe they should’ve done a chrome color.

In the little momentary crease of Yuuta’s eyebrows as he picked up the mug, there was the lingering need to question how Hinata knew he was awake. Hinata can imagine the thoughts flitting through his brain as Yuuta tried to make sense of it. Was it a camera in his room? A parenting app installed in secret? Twin intuition? At least there was no need to question what comes after Hinata knew that his brother was awake, since this was a routine as old as they’ve been able to reach the stove by standing on a wobbly stool.

He had always been making hot chocolate for Yuuta to help him fall asleep. Hinata didn’t plan on ever giving up that level of care for him, because as long as it was impossible to beat up nightmares and bad dreams, then this would be all he could do to settle his brother at night.

Yuuta took the first sip, his face relaxing as he held the cup with both his hands, seeping in its warmth. It was a short sip, since it was too hot to properly drink right now, but his lips turned up into a small smile regardless. 

“Thank you, Hinata-kun.”

There was no need to question Hinata tonight, not over this familiar hot chocolate that had comforted Yuuta countless nights before.

“No problem, Yuuta-kun~”

#2winkWeek2023 #enstars fic #ensemble stars fic #2wink #hinata aoi #yuuta Aoi #my writing

[voraciousvore]

In the Belly of the Giant (19/39)

***Contains soft, nonfatal vore and some drug use***

Chapter 19

Trent deposited Eren on the dining room table and pulled a big pork chop out of the fridge to fry up. Humming to himself, he slapped the meat in one of his unwashed pans from the sink and cooked it on the stovetop. Eren grimaced as she was reminded of all the roaches crawling around amongst the dishes. Trent was a contemptible, lowlife wretch and obviously didn’t care about cleanliness.  

Eren cursed her puny size as she quickly surveyed the table. Here she was, standing right next to a gun and a knife, and still defenseless. She wouldn’t be able to even lift the giant weapons, much less use them. She paced around on the table, looking over the edge for some way to get off, but she had nothing to climb down on or cushion her fall. She figured Trent must have set her up intentionally, to make her feel small and insignificant. 

The giant’s shadow fell over her as he returned to the table. Even though she was aware that anything she did was pointless, she ducked behind one of the objects on the table that was nearby, the vial. He plunked down a giant plate with the cooked slab of meat on it, along with a fork and knife, and paused, thinking to himself. He went over to the fridge and obtained a bottle of barbeque sauce, then came back and sat down. Eren followed his every movement with trepidation. 

“Take your pill,” Trent demanded harshly. Her bottle of pills was on the table from the prior night. The giant rolled the bottle towards her with the tip of his finger. Eren looked at the bottle with fear. Trent popped his own pill, dumped sauce all over his pork chop, and began eating his dinner, tearing apart the meat with vigorous strokes of the serrated steak knife. He hardly seemed to chew at all, opting instead to swallow down the cut-up chunks of meat whole. Eren supposed that fact was good for her, because at least he wasn’t inclined to chew her up when she was inside his mouth. 

Reminding herself that she needed to stall long enough for Joey to come rescue her, Eren bitterly swallowed her own capsule. She couldn’t see any other way out of her predicament, after all. She absolutely did not want to die inside Trent’s body. It was bad enough to stew inside his stomach for hours, but imagining her flesh dissolving off her bones into ribbons as she was digested alive was too much for her to handle. 

She tried in vain to mentally steel herself for the torture that was to come, but she was startled when Trent poured barbeque sauce all over her. He scooped her up with his fork, careful not to stab her, and slapped her down on top of the half-eaten cut of pork. She quivered with fear as the hungry giant, so incredibly massive, loomed over her, eager to wolf her down. Trent ate around her to prolong her suffering, chopping up the meat into cubes with the huge, shiny knife, impaling them fiercely with his fork, and stuffing them in his mouth with a mischievous grin. Eren flinched away from the gigantic eating utensils whenever they hovered too close to her. The giant used this to his advantage to viciously chase her back with the point of his knife, only to sneak up behind her with the fork and scrape her up off the meat. She yelped in shock and tried to retreat, but he had already raised her up too high off the table for her to jump off. She clung to the teeth of the fork, terrified both of falling and of being eaten. 

The giant rested the splines of the fork on the edge of his lower lip and bared his teeth at Eren. She shrieked and scuttled back but had nowhere to go. He opened his rows of teeth and stuck out his tongue, giving her an exploratory lick on her breasts and face. As he suspected, her flavor matched very well with the sauce. Eren whimpered and started to cry. He opened his mouth, tilting his head and the fork back so Eren slid inside onto his big, meaty tongue. Her screams of protest were muffled as he closed his capacious maw around her, cradling her on his tongue. He rolled the little woman around inside his slimy mouth, slurping up the sauce coating her body and drenching her with saliva.  

Ah, she tasted so good. He was hungry. He could feel her miniscule limbs moving around, trying to push away from his teeth and tongue. He felt a small pinch on his tongue as she tried to bite him. She was so feisty. How cute. He raised his tongue toward the roof of his mouth like a ramp, and she slipped into his gullet. He swallowed with tremendous pleasure and felt her weak struggles as she slid down his throat. He placed his fingers on his skin and traced her journey all the way down through his chest and lower until she dropped into his stomach. He rested his hand on his abdomen for a moment as he felt her thrashing around inside his belly. He lowered his hand further, running his fingers along his skin under the waistband of his boxers until he was gripping his rock-hard cock. All her robust efforts to get free from his body had turned him on again. As a young man in his prime, he was always horny. He jacked himself off, getting more and more excited as Eren’s battle with his innards became more heated and desperate. 

Once he finished himself off, he sighed with satisfaction and returned to eating his pork chop. As he swallowed bites of his dinner, he could feel Eren running around frantically in his gut. He imagined what she must be going through, trying to dodge falling chunks of meat and splashes of putrid acid blindly in pure blackness, as her tiny feet sank into the squishy flesh of his stomach lining and she sloshed though the bubbling juices. He smirked. He liked the mental image of her suffering.  

Trent gulped down the last bite of pork and wondered what to do next. His eyes wandered over to the vial and syringes on the table. He had pilfered them off of one of the men he had killed today. The vial contained some sort of new synthetic medical drug that was potent enough to make its way to the streets, one he hadn’t tried yet. Trent was impulsive and dissolute, and always willing to indulge in a new vice to add to his long list of debauched sins, so he decided to shoot up. He filled the syringe, stuck the needle in the thick vein in his arm, and pushed the plunger down. The powerful liquid hit his bloodstream like a kick from a mule. 

On the inside, Eren was panting for breath as she stood in churning gastric juices up past her knees. The last couple of minutes had been a pure nightmare as large hunks of meat had rained down from the entrance to the stomach above her. A direct hit would have drowned her in acid. The vile substance had splashed her like hot sparks. Even though the pill protected her from getting scalded or boiled alive, she still hated the foul stuff contacting her skin. The stomach gurgled loudly and a half-digested chunk of food bumped into her side. She shirked away and leaned uncomfortably against one of the curved, shifting stomach walls. 

Trent’s pulse suddenly rocketed up again, and he started breathing very rapidly. He had been excited earlier, but now his heart was pounding extremely fast, like a piston in an engine. If he were a car, his tachometer would be in overspeed. Eren started to get worried as the sound of his thumping heart thundered loudly through the hollow cavity. She didn’t care about his health at all, but she didn’t exactly want him to have a heart attack while she was trapped inside his body. His internal organs had always been unbearably hot, but now his body temperature seemed to increase too. What was going on? 

Eren let out a cry as Trent unexpectedly stood up, knocking her over into a squishy, soggy lump. Impulsively, she clambered up onto what she recognized as a floating piece of meat, to get out of the polluted waters. Unfortunately, the buoyant chunk capsized and dunked her back in. Eren hardly had time to recover before Trent moved again, hurling her into the pulsating folds of his stomach lining. 

She didn’t know why Trent was so excessively energetic, but he seemed to be pacing, with jerky, agitated movements. The sea of acid frothed and boiled into tumultuous waves, tossing Eren around as she bathed in pure misery alongside dissolving pork chunks. Much like Trent, with his overstimulated drug-fueled high, was bouncing off the walls in his apartment, Eren was bouncing off the fleshy walls of his belly. His dinner was beginning to come apart and break down into smaller pieces as it was digested, but Eren remained intact. 

After an extended period of hyperactivity, Trent cooled down and sprawled out on his bed. Eren was discombobulated to find her world turned completely sideways. To her relief, his energy had run out, calming the stormy ocean of acid within him, and his cardiovascular system was winding down. Now, she only had to contend with the rhythmic churning, bubbling, and noisy rumbling of his stomach as it carried out the natural process of digestion. 

His breathing turned into a heavy, steady whooshing, and his heart ticked with the precision of a clock. Eren began to get scared again for a whole different reason. Trent wasn’t moving at all now. Judging by the rate of his vitals, he might even be asleep. She body slammed his stomach wall with all the momentum she could muster, to see if he would react, and nothing happened. Her fear was escalating into panic. If he was asleep, and she couldn’t wake him up, he wouldn’t let her out. The effects of the pill would wear off, and she would die a horrible, pointless death as she was digested alive. She was in serious danger. 

As if to confirm her worst fears, she began to feel an unpleasant tingling on her skin that she hadn’t experienced prior. She must have been marinating inside him for a couple of hours by now. Thinking fast, Eren groped around the walls, kicking and punching for good measure to see if she could wake up the giant. Apparently, he was dead to the world. Since he was laying supine, she decided to see if she could reach the top of his stomach, which would normally be impossible when he was in a vertical position, and climb out. She reached a slope and used the wrinkles in the stomach lining as handholds to pull herself up onto the shore of the acid sea. Crawling blindly forward, she felt the flesh chamber narrowing until she bumped into a tight ring of muscle. She forced it open with her hands and jammed herself though. 

The stomach didn’t like having food come back up, and the muscle heaved around her reflexively, trying to shove her back inside. She fought against the force and managed to squeeze her whole body through. To her surprise, Trent still didn’t wake up. She found herself now in the narrow tunnel of his esophagus. Thankful that she wasn’t claustrophobic, Eren slithered through the constricted fleshy tube with lithe movements, feeling and hearing the organs of Trent’s giant body working all around her like the components of a living machine, pumping and flowing and gurgling. The surreal, disturbing effect was heightened by the fact that she couldn’t see anything, so her other senses were more sensitive to every bizarre sound, every fetid smell, every wet, hot, pulsing touch. 

As miserable as the situation was, Eren felt a glimmer of hope. If she could make it out of Trent’s giant body without waking him from his stupor, she might be able to escape, and find her way back to Joey. She was reminded of a story she heard about a man escaping prison by tunneling through a sewer pipe. She figured that the man in the story must’ve felt the same way as she did right now, crawling through hell to get to freedom.  

The giant’s esophagus felt like it was miles long, and her limbs started to cramp up from her constrained movements. Her skin was tingling to the point where it was close to burning. Eren thought to herself with some consternation that even if she got out alive, her skin might peel off from all the acid. She swallowed her fears and kept moving. One problem at a time. She had to escape first. 

Her hands sank into thick, slimy goop, and she realized with disgust that Trent had bile in his throat. She pressed onward and waded through the globs of phlegm. The anatomy of the restrictive tube around her seemed to change and widen, and she recognized she must be close to entering Trent’s mouth. Woefully, since she was in total blackness, she was disoriented with her unfamiliar surroundings and made the lamentable error of sticking her hand into the entrance to Trent’s windpipe. She may have avoided this transgression, had she recognized the flow of air from the open pipe, but his breath was flowing through his throat as well and caused her confusion, since she thought she was closer to his gullet. 

Nonetheless, this mistake cost her dearly, because Trent was choked awake by the sudden blockage. The flesh all around her retched and squeezed with deafening sound and she was violently flung back up into his mouth. She could see light again, filtered through a cage of giant teeth. Trent hacked her up, covered in bodily fluids, into his hand. He coughed a few more times to rid himself of the unpleasant tickling in his throat. Eren was stunned, and crestfallen that she woke up Trent, but also relieved to finally be out in open space, in the cool air again. 

Trent seemed dazed and confused. “How...” he began to say, until his eyes drifted over to the clock, and he saw how long it had been since he first swallowed her. “Shit.” He hurried over to the kitchen sink and turned on the faucet. Without waiting for the sink to fill, he lowered his giant hand with Eren in his palm underneath the stream of water and rinsed her off. Ignoring her sputtering, he pumped some liquid soap into his hand and rubbed it all over her body with his clumsy fingers. Eren hated being handled by him so rudely, but she understood the acid needed to be removed from her skin expediently. Besides, after her awful journey she was exhausted. She went limp with resigned fatigue as he washed her off. 

Once she was clean, he took her up in his hand towards his face and examined her for a moment. He was still puzzled how she ended up so far up his throat without him noticing. She looked back blankly as she huddled up into a ball in the curve of his palm, defeated. As her shock wore off, she recognized that she had messed up her only chance to escape from him, and she was devastated. He put her back in the terrarium, shaking his head, and clamped down the lid. Eren buried herself in the blankets and watched warily as Trent returned to bed.  

She had known from the beginning that she couldn’t trust Trent to be responsible with her life, but her near-death experience had shaken her. He had almost killed her with his mere negligence, not even with sadistic intent to kill. She shuddered hard. Joey had better hurry up and rescue her before it was too late. 

Chapter 20

Chapter 1

#g/t vore #gt vore #male pred #unwilling vore #vore writing #vore story #unwilling prey #g/t fearplay #giant #in the belly of the giant #soft vore #nonfatal vore #v0re #v/ore #v.ore

[grenadacarnival2023]

Unleashing Caribbean Vibes: Trinidad and Tobago Carnival and Grenada Carnival 2023

Introduction: 

Immersed in a whirlwind of vibrant colors, pulsating rhythms, and infectious energy the Caribbean islands of Trinidad and Tobago and Grenada gear up for their legendary carnivals in 2023. These two nations are renowned for their spectacular celebrations, drawing crowds from around the globe. The Trinidad and Tobago Carnival is a feast for the senses, featuring exuberant masquerade bands, captivating calypso, and soca music, and spellbinding steelpan performances. Meanwhile, Grenada Carnival, known as Spicemas, showcases a unique blend of traditional folklore and modern revelry. From dazzling costumes to pulsating street parades, these carnivals promise an unforgettable experience that will leave you enchanted with the irresistible Caribbean vibes.

In this guide, we will discuss the Caribbean vibes of the Trinidad and Tobago Carnival and Grenada Carnival 2023.

Trinidad and Tobago Carnival: A Spectacular Fusion of Music, Dance, and Color

This world-famous festival is a captivating fusion of music, dance, and vibrant colors. From the moment you step onto the streets, you'll be immersed in a sensory extravaganza. The pulsating rhythms of soca and calypso music will fill the air as revelers adorned in elaborate costumes gracefully move to the beat. The energy is infectious, and the atmosphere is electric. Every corner bursts with vibrant hues and exudes a joyous celebration of Caribbean culture. 

Grenada Carnival: The Ultimate Caribbean Extravaganza of Rhythm and Revelry

This beautiful extravaganza showcases the essence of Grenadian culture and promises an unforgettable celebration. From the traditional Jab Jab masqueraders covered in molasses and cocoa to the mesmerizing beauty of the Queen Show, Grenada Carnival captivates with its unique blend of traditions and creativity. There you can enjoy yourself in the pulsating rhythms of steel pan music and calypso, and let the vibrant costumes and energetic performances ignite your spirit. Whether you're dancing in the streets or enjoying the lively festivities, Grenada Carnival is an immersive experience that will leave you with cherished memories.

Unleashing the Caribbean Spirit: Immerse Yourself in the Vibrant Culture of Trinidad and Tobago Carnival

This captivating annual celebration is a vibrant reflection of the island’s rich cultural heritage. From the stunningly intricate costumes to the energetic and synchronized movements of the masqueraders, every aspect of this festival is designed to showcase the region's soulful and captivating culture. The infectious rhythms of steelpan music will sway you to the joyful spirit of the locals. You can have fun with the warmth, hospitality, and lively energy that define the Caribbean, making the Trinidad and Tobago Carnival an unmissable cultural event.

Get Ready to Sway and Celebrate: Experience the Irresistible Energy of Grenada Carnival

The festivities begin with the exhilarating pre-carnival events, building anticipation for the main event. As the grand parade takes to the streets, you'll be captivated by the colorful and elaborate costumes, the infectious rhythms of soca music, and the exuberant dance moves of the revelers. Whether you're a first-time visitor or a seasoned carnival-goer, Grenada Carnival promises an unforgettable experience filled with laughter, camaraderie, and a sense of pure joy. 

Carnival 2023: Embrace the Unforgettable Festivities of Trinidad and Tobago and Grenada

These twin islands come alive with an explosion of color, music, and revelry, inviting you to embrace the unforgettable festivities and experience the unparalleled energy, creativity, and cultural richness of both carnivals. From captivating parades and lively competitions to street parties and infectious merriment, Carnival 2023 promises an immersive experience like no other. 

Conclusion: 

In conclusion, the vibrant spirit of the Trinidad and Tobago Carnival and Grenada Carnival 2023 is a testament to the rich cultural heritage of the Caribbean. These festivals offer a remarkable opportunity to immerse oneself in infectious energy, vibrant music, and breathtaking displays of color and creativity. Whether you choose to sway to the rhythms, don a striking costume, or simply soak in the lively atmosphere, these celebrations promise an unforgettable experience.